Screamer
by SMilligan
Summary: Starscream has a problem. One step closer to Decepticon leadership, he finds himself two steps back. Can the mysterious Oblivion be the answer to fulfilling his ambitions?
1. Chapter 1

Part One The Rookery

Cybertron, Polyhex City-state, Sector Gamma-107 Cybertronian Date: vorn 999867.92 - Orn 8329 - Breem 3210 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth Date: 27 August 2070, 0520 HOURS

The F-22 Raptor fighter-jet looked out of place in the skies of Cybertron, its Terran form as alien to the metallic world as any of Cybertron's aerial forms would be to the planet Earth. The domes and towers of Polyhex sped by beneath, only the odd towering spire of Cybertronian architecture reaching up to meet the seemingly alien visitor that flew kilometres above the surface. From horizon to horizon the planet seemed one vast sprawling metropolis as the continent-sized city-state filled every view with towers, domes and other architectural wonders. On the southern horizon, the dense architecture of Central Polyhex towered into the rarefied upper atmosphere as though the city had been crowned by its builders. And as the current foothold of the Decepticon Empire on Cybertron, it was an apt symbol. Though the city-state had been torn apart in places, deep craters and gashes ripped deep into the under-city, by the Decepticon invasion three years earlier, at this height and distance the overall structure of the city still looked fittingly grand and intimidating for a Decepticon capital. Decepticon conquerors and the enslaved neutral populus of Polyhex scurried like ants along the flyways, highways and walkways of the city, working to prepare for the total conquest of Cybertron that was inevitably to come.

The jet was unusually fast and quiet for a fighter of its class. It was primarily light-grey, the nose-cone and dorsal tail fins a deep royal blue, the air intakes and ventral weapons bays red, and the wings and tail fins flashed with red and silver on the leading edges. On each wing and on the nose ahead of the gold cockpit canopy were emblazoned the horned purple insignia of the Decepticon military. The jet banked between two of the sky-shearing spires before heading for a third even taller construct in the distance, its form constructed of a tripod of spires topped by a nest of curved towers kilometres above the ground. The three outer towers were shaped into monolithic Decepticon insignia, from between which emerged a golden crown of smaller towers bristling with air-to-air defences. As the jet approached the tower, the automated defences swivelled on target and a flurry of sensor activity scanned the newcomer. Moments later, the airwaves were split by a commanding masculine voice addressing the jet. "This is Rookery security. Please submit identification codes. Over."

"Identify myself?" came a second voice from the jet, its tone slightly high and screeching. "I don't need to identify anything, you moron! It's Starscream!"

"I'm sorry, sir," came the reply, the authority leaving the voice slightly, and an edge of nerves entering it. "But I must request your identification codes before allowing you to land. Those are your standing orders, sir. Over."

"If you don't open those hangar doors, I'll tear off your cranial unit and shove it up your tailpipe, you ignorant son-of-a-groundling!"

"Sir, you may be an Autobot spy, sir! Over."

"An Autobot spy?" Starscream's tone dripped sarcasm. "Did you have a cerebro-circuitry bypass before starting your duty shift? If I was an Autobot spy, do you think I would be passing myself off as Decepticon aerospace commander?"

"Erm, n-no sir," came the reply, all pretence at confidence replaced by nervous stuttering. "I, erm, I suppose n-not, s-sir."

"Then clear me for landing!" ordered Starscream.

"Y-yes, sir! I-I'm opening h-hangar t-two for you now, sir! Over and out."

Starscream closed his communications channel in disgust. When he found out who was on duty, they'd be clearing the scrap feeders from the foundations for the rest of their current service cycle! Ahead of him the outer tower was unfolding, the central horned wedge of the Decepticon insignia sliding upward to reveal the hangar behind. For a few decakliks, the wedge continued to rise, the rim surrounded by guidance beacons that flashed in visible and ultraviolet frequencies, and three rows of landing lights extending back from the opening into the tower marking out the landing zone. Even before the wedge had finished opening, Starscream's sleek low-profiled form streaked through into the hangar, his advanced Cybertronic engine systems - enhanced since his reactivation with nanotechnology stolen from the Autobots of the Bersalis Cluster - slowing him down to landing speeds in a few cubits. Once his speed was sufficiently diminished, he engaged his transformation systems with a thought and landed gracefully in robot mode.

Crossing the virtually empty hangar - only a few cargo ships and tankers dotted around the huge space with a few technicians working to unload them - he pressed his palm against the security lock that activated the armoured entrance into the Rookery. As his internal circuitry interfaced with the security systems, the lock bleeped several times and the heavy reinforced doors slid slowly open with a hiss of air and whirr of machinery. Entering the Rookery, he was met by a fellow Seeker, the body plans of the two Decepticons virtually identical, the colouring being the only real difference. The blue, silver and black Seeker saluted his superior officer before speaking. "Commander Starscream, welcome back."

"It's good to be back, Thundercracker," Starscream replied. "One more breem at Darkmount with that walking computer Shockwave droning on about his plans for leading us to victory and I would have self-terminated out of desperation!" Thundercracker sniggered cruelly. "I should be the one sitting in that throne room at Darkmount!" Starscream continued angrily. "That purple fool doesn't have what it takes to be Decepticon leader! It should be me! If I was our leader, we would have dealt with that fool Scorponok and his renegades centivorns ago and would have driven the Autobots from half of Cybertron by now!"

"Sure thing," said Thundercracker, trying not to smirk. "You're a tactical genius all right!"

"I am not in the mood for sarcasm, Thundercracker!" Starscream growled warningly. "I can still revoke your promotion to deputy aerospace commander! Concussion did want the job…"

"Yes, sir." Thundercracker saluted. He liked being Starscream's deputy. After kilovorns of existence, he had finally found a real direction in life in his new responsibilities. Though he had been quite fond of the previous deputy, Night-shrieker, and her death in the initial Decepticon invasion of Polyhex had been quite a hit for many Seekers, taking her place had been one of the best things to happen to him in the last fifty-thousand vorns. Plus, he had become quite attached to the power. And the thought of having to take orders from an arrogant, smug son-of-a-Neutralist like Concussion was almost more than his central processors could contemplate! "So, anything interesting happening down at Darkmount?" he asked his commander, who was walking away down the corridor.

"Nothing that concerns us," replied Starscream. "Let them have their petty power-struggles over whether Shockwave should succeed Megatron, or whether it should be Colossus or Onslaught, or whatever other nonentities think they should lead us! When they've all exhausted themselves with the effort, it'll be all the more easy for us to swoop in and elevate the Seekers to their rightful position of superiority under my Decepticon leadership."

"So ol' one-eye isn't having an easy time of taking over, is he?" chuckled Thundercracker. "Well, if he couldn't take out Megatron one-on-one, what does he expect?"

"Though I have to hand it to him for originality," smirked Starscream. "Manoeuvring both Megatron and Galvatron into trial by combat for the leadership, and then blowing them both to the Pit by booby-trapping the combat arena was a singular achievement in Decepticon political history." His smirk broadened. "I'm almost sorry that his ascension didn't quite go to plan. Almost!" The two Seekers stepped into a repulsor-shaft at the end of the corridor, and were immediately whisked off to the upper levels of the Rookery.

The two stepped out of the shaft after passing up through several levels and across into the central core of the base. As they stepped out, Starscream turned to his deputy. "Have the technicians reported progress on my pet project?"

"They're still having trouble restoring the short-term memory files from the buffers," replied Thundercracker. "They figure on a full memory recovery to take several orns."

"I trust you can be relied on to speed the process up a little?" smiled Starscream.

"Oh, don't worry," chuckled Thundercracker, darkly. "Those back-room pilots have been acquainted with my friend Mr Incendiary Cannon. They'll speed up all right!"

"If I don't receive a preliminary report from them within the hectobreem, the team leader will be acquainting herself with my cluster bombs," replied Starscream. "Soundwave was destroyed for something he found out about Megatron's mysterious benefactor. This Oblivion is not to be trusted. He was created by Quintessons, killed his own builder, and I'll bet my right tail rudder that he's just as trustworthy as they are! The answers lie in those buffers, and I want them!"

"I'll pass on your message," smiled Thundercracker, absently grinding a fist into the palm of his other hand expectantly.

"Oblivion has power," continued Starscream, oblivious to Thundercracker's eager aggression. "I can feel it. And I will have it!" Starscream smiled inwardly. Oh yes, he would have whatever power Oblivion possessed. And with it he would finally achieve his rightful place in the universe: as its ruler! He had been foiled before. Had had indignity after indignity heaped on his wing-struts. But his success would come. It was inevitable. He was only sorry that Megatron wouldn't be there to suffer. For foiling his dreams, for attempting to brainwash him into a mindless slave when he had become a Pretender, and for leaving him at the mercy of Necromancer after his last deactivation! Starscream still activated mid-recharge with the vivid memories of being forced back into his decapitated and rusting cranial unit by the Decepticon interrogator. When he became Decepticon leader, he would ensure that Necromancer came to regret treating his disembodied spark with such irreverence!

The two came to the large ornate doors of the command centre: doors that made the throne room portals of Darkmount and the War Star unimpressive by comparison. As they approached, the doors swished aside to reveal the huge domed chamber within, its surface dancing with a vast wraparound holographic display of the skies of Polyhex as viewed from the Rookery. Every airborne target was marked for duty-monitor investigation by the base's automated security systems. Smaller holograms overlaying the main wraparound displayed other important security and logistical concerns. From this chamber, Starscream's Seekers could monitor and protect the integrity of Polyhex's aerial borders with the neighbouring city-states and the atmospheric interface with the vacuum of space. An Autobot incursion by air or space was therefore an impossible suicide mission for the poor sparks involved.

Starscream crossed to the raised central command chair and sat down, data connections in his palms linking with circuits in the arms of the chair as he linked with the command centre's systems. Within a few seconds, he had downloaded the reports filed in his absence to his neural net, and autonomous processing subroutines began to digest their data for any details that required the aerospace commander's conscious attention. Thundercracker stopped in front of him. "Should I go pass your regards to the techs?" he asked.

"Yes, Thundercracker," he replied in a dismissive tone. "You're my deputy. Use a little command initiative!" Thundercracker turned to leave, but was stopped by the sudden communications channel that had opened inside his head. He turned to Starscream, only to recognise that he too was receiving the broadcast. After a matter of kliks, a voice spoke. "This is commander Shockwave in Darkmount broadcasting an emergency scramble order to all Decepticons in Polyhex! We are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack!"

"What?" asked Starscream in shock, his optics surveying the vast holographic display and detecting nothing. "Where?" For a few moments, the Seeker duty monitors were silent as they scanned their assigned sectors, before relaying their results to the main security monitor. A white Seeker turned to Starscream, his upper body polished gold around the white nose module folded down the front of his torso. His hands were a similar polished gold, and his wings were marked with gold and silver flashes, as were other parts of his form. The black face between his grilled audio modules could barely contain its arrogance as it addressed the aerospace commander. "Commander, the only disturbance we can detect is at Darkmount itself. If this is an enemy incursion, they did not come by air. I would have detected them immediately had they done so!"

"Very well, Concussion," replied Starscream, disconnecting from his command chair and crossing back to the doors, followed closely by Thundercracker. "Assemble a strike force ready in hangar three! You have command until Thundercracker and I return!"

"Aye, sir," replied Concussion, smiling smugly at the thought of receiving command of the Rookery. "It will be my pleasure. I'll have alpha, delta and epsilon squadrons standing by when you arrive."

"Very well," replied Starscream curtly, before he and Thundercracker left the command centre. As the doors closed behind them, Concussion stood up and crossed to the command chair. With a superior smile, he gracefully lowered himself ceremoniously into the seat and rested his palms on the armrests. As the Rookery's command systems opened up to him, he smiled smugly and opened a communications channel. "Alpha, delta and epsilon squadrons, report immediately to hangar three for scramble to Darkmount with commander Starscream." As he closed the channel, he shifted in the chair, sprawling catlike in its seat. "As you were!" he told the other duty monitors, waving a dismissive hand at them before returning it to the armrest.

Within the breem, a fleet of aircraft rose out of one of the Rookery's hangars and turned south towards the heart of the city-state. At the head of the formation was a squadron of F-22 fighters led by Starscream, followed by two squadrons of Cybertronian triwing aerospace fighters. As the bizarre assortment of aircraft headed south, their communications systems scanned the airwaves for updates from the Decepticon fortress just beyond the towers of Central Polyhex, though not one transmission reached their transceiver assemblies.

Cybertron, Polyhex City-state, Sector Alpha-010 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8329 - 3221 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth Date: 27 August 2070, 0652 HOURS

As Starscream and the three Seeker squadrons came into visual range of Darkmount the reconnaissance specialists soared ahead to survey the area, their more advanced sensor arrays scanning the scene and their transceivers feeding the processed sensor data back to the squadrons. The vast complex was dominated by an interconnected network of domes and towers, dominated by the black mountain-sized multi-tower of the central fortress, and surrounded by defensive gun-towers and Polyhex's infamous smelting pools. When Starscream had left only a few decabreems earlier, the fortress had been a hive of Decepticon activity, and now it was eerily quiet. The gun-towers were mangled and geysers of molten metal were spraying from the damaged pumps around the smelting pools, the walls of which had collapsed where high explosive armaments had hit them. The perimeter buildings were mostly intact, but the central multi-tower was missing a part of one flank, where the internal corridors and compartments were torn open.

As Starscream received this information, his internal systems immediately switched from battle-ready status to attack-mode. As strategic processors came to full power and targeting systems engaged, his vision bloomed with targeting data and his consciousness was expanded with the knowledge of kilovorns of military engagements. As he switched from treacherous lieutenant to competent military strategist, his attentions switched firmly to the task at hand. "Delta squadron, epsilon squadron, cover our flanks. Alpha squadron, form up on me. We're going in!"

The squadrons obeyed without question, delta and epsilon squadrons falling slightly back and fanning out into trines to cover the forward squadron from all quadrants of the complex, and alpha squadron tightening their arrowhead formation behind Starscream and heading for the main fortress. Thundercracker and Skywarp formed up on Starscream, the remainder of the squadron forming up behind in their trine groups. As his squadron headed in, tactical sensors straining for the first detection of the enemy, Starscream began to feel a sense of unease as the kliks passed without response. "Flights 2 and 3, fan out and search for the enemy," he ordered as the unease grew. "Flight one, follow me in!" Followed by Thundercracker, Skywarp, and a second trine of Seekers, he headed into the rift in the fortress wall, transforming to robot mode. As he landed, the others joined him, their arm cannons sweeping the area for potential targets. "Thundercracker, Skywarp, you're with me," Starscream whispered, his internal communications blocked by an outside signal. "Blizzard, Eye-soar and Firestorm, bring up the rear." The others nodded receipt of their orders before Thundercracker and Skywarp followed Starscream into the fortress, the others following a few kliks behind. The corridors within the rift were littered with debris from whatever battle had taken place in the breems that Starscream and his armada were on route from the Rookery. At certain strategic points in the interior corridor network the debris of makeshift barricades mingled with deactivated Decepticons and the assorted body-parts of those who had suffered injury before escaping the front-line.

"Hello again, Starscream." At the words, Starscream reacted on instinct, immediately ducking behind the cover of a protruding bulkhead at the nearest junction and raising his null ray rifles to bear in a standard sweeping pattern. Thundercracker and Skywarp took up positions behind the opposite bulkhead, also raising their weapons. Blizzard, Eye-soar and Firestorm dived behind junction bulkheads further back up the corridor. Starscream scanned further up the corridor with targeting scopes that deployed from his cannons, the sensor data transmitted through his weapon mounts direct to his cranial processors. Detecting nothing in the visual spectrum, he cycled into infrared and two heat sources bloomed into vision on either side of the next junction down the corridor. "Oh, come on now, Starscream," said the same voice with a dark chuckle. "If we'd wanted you dead, you'd already be a pile of scrap metal on the deck plate. Your reaction times were pitifully slow!"

"Identify yourselves!" ordered Starscream. For a few seconds, there was a tense silence, before the two heat sources moved, stepping out into the corridor. As Starscream's optics cycled back to the visible spectrum, the two figures were revealed to be Cyclonus and Scourge. Both were unarmed. Scourge had his arms folded arrogantly over his broad blue chest, a hand absently stroking his bifurcated chin. There was a look of utter contempt in his deep red optics, a look mirrored in the red optics of Cyclonus. Cyclonus lifted his hands in a show that he was unarmed, a show that was equally as mocking of the Seekers before him. Starscream straightened, and stepped out into the corridor, signalling to his men to keep their weapons targeted on the two Unicronians. The two had been Galvatron's lieutenants, pulled from their own universe by their commander as Galvatron had been pulled from it by Unicron. Both had gone rogue after Galvatron's demise, refusing to accept the leadership of an inferior Cybertronian like Shockwave. Their presence worried Starscream, but he refused to show it. "Where is everyone?" he asked them, his optics narrowing. "What happened to Shockwave?"

"I'm afraid that there's been a regime change within Darkmount," chuckled Scourge. "Shockwave is no longer in command."

"And who is?" asked Starscream. "The two of you?"

"The Supreme Overlord has taken his rightful place as Decepticon high commander," replied Cyclonus. "We are his to command. He has asked that we offer you the same choice he offers all Decepticons: to serve him loyally, or to die as a traitor."

"If this Supreme Overlord wishes my loyalty, he should request it in person," replied Starscream. "I don't swear loyalty to minions." Starscream's face twisted into a mocking smile.

"Minions?" snapped Scourge, unfolding his arms, his composure lost. "Who do you think-"

"Enough!" growled Cyclonus, grabbing Scourge's arm to restrain him, buckling his comrade's exo-plating. As Scourge relaxed in his grip, he turned back to Starscream. "Very well, you may petition the Supreme Overlord for his patronage. Follow us! Your Seekers will remain here."

"Starscream?" asked Skywarp, unwilling to be left behind.

"Return to the squadrons," replied Starscream. "Thundercracker, assume command and maintain holding manoeuvres. Standard protocols." Thundercracker was about to respond, when Cyclonus cut in. "I don't think that will be necessary, Thundercracker," he intoned menacingly. "If you do attack, we will retaliate without mercy and wipe you out of the sky!" The Seekers eyed Cyclonus warily. Since Starscream had become Decepticon aerospace commander and leader of the Seekers, they had followed standard protocols kept secret from the rest of the Decepticon army. Cyclonus' knowledge of Seeker protocols was both a shock and a concern. He was more dangerous than it seemed. Starscream looked at him. "How did you learn our protocols?" he asked.

"We've been around," replied Scourge with a sly grin. "Now come!" Starscream cast a look back to Thundercracker and Skywarp, using tiny facial ticks and wing movements to indicate that they should return to the Rookery if he was not back within half a groon and prepare to defend themselves from this new threat. Thundercracker nodded, and he and Skywarp fell back, the rest of Starscream's flight joining them to return to the squadrons. Starscream turned back to Cyclonus and Scourge with a new sense of alertness. These two were not what they seemed to be. Had they been Seekers before Unicron had rebuilt them? The thought that two Seekers would dare to stand against him was the ultimate insult. One day he would teach them both the error of turning against their own kind!

Cyclonus eyed him suspiciously, practically seeing the thought processes in his cerebral processors. "Come!" he ordered. "The Supreme Overlord does not like being kept waiting!"

"As you wish," replied Starscream, following the two taller mechanisms as they strode off down the corridor. A part of Starscream was tempted to just blast them both between the shoulders with his null rays, but his tactical sense told him better. He needed to meet this 'Supreme Overlord' that they served and assess the threat to his own eventual leadership.

Darkmount Throne Room Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8329 - 3222 (Solar zenith)  
Earth Date: 27 August 2070, 07:00 HOURS

Starscream was led into the vast deserted throne room of Darkmount by the two Unicronian Decepticons. The chamber was enormous, designed for the Decepticon high commander to hold court in suitably grand surroundings. Golden statues of past high commanders lined the polished side walls, enclosing the central floor between the tall entrance doors at one end and the stepped dais at the other on which stood the high commander's throne of office. The obsidian throne was an impressive construction said to have been moulded from the recycled body shell of Sentinel Prime after he was killed in battle by high commander Megatron, the high back etched with the horned purple Decepticon insignia. "Ahh, Starscream, I must admit that I'm surprised you didn't leave your fellow Decepticons to whatever attack Shockwave was facing in the hopes of capitalising on the disarray to secure leadership for yourself." The voice was dark and gruff, a mixture of gravely and velvety tones filled with menace and demanding of respect. The harmonics of the chamber made locating the speaker a task impossible for even Starscream's impressive audio sensors, and his radar activated almost unconsciously to locate the hidden occupant.

"Where are you?" he asked. "Does the Supreme Overlord need to hide among the shadows for his protection?"

"You never change, do you Starscream?" said the same voice. "Always trying to further your personal ambitions at the expense of your fellow Decepticons. An admirable trait, but not always a welcome one."

"And who are you that knows so much about me?"

"I've known you in two universes, Starscream. And in both you've been as trustworthy as a Quintesson!"

"Who are you?" Starscream's tone was filled with indignant anger. "Why do you hide yourself from me?"

Starscream's radar finally detected another presence, previously masked by some form of spatial distortion. A towering figure stepped out from behind the throne, his immense form obviously teeming with power. Translucent red panels in the centre of his abdomen writhed with internal fire below a polished silver chest plate on his black torso. A Decepticon insignia was emblazoned on either side of his chest plate, flanking a translucent black dome that was regressed at the centre and seemed to extend to infinity in its inky depths. His upper arms were deep-purple above silver forearms and clawed black hands. Black gravitic booster modules were mounted on the outsides of his hips. His thighs were deep-purple above silver lower legs and feet that split into twin curving claws. His kneepads and shin-plates were black with silver kneecaps and black razor-sharp blades over the knees, silver armour extending up the front of his thighs. Black bat-like wing modules rose from his shoulders, missile launchers mounted at the midpoints and translucent purple sheeting between the finger-joints. A black aircraft nose module rose up between the back of his shoulders, a bifurcated red cockpit canopy at the tip flanked by stabiliser fins, and black struts rose from each shoulder above his arms. His cranial helmet was jet black, with a purple neck-guard around the base at the sides and back merging into the cheek struts and forehead shield. Purple horns extended back and up from the temples and forehead. Silver spikes extended from the cheek struts to the sides of his mouth, two per side. His stern impassive face was dark-grey with red optics that seemed to writhe with internal fires. Starscream looked into the burning optics and recognised the spark within immediately. "Megatron? Is that you?"

The words brought a flash of memory to the towering Supreme Overlord. Memories of Starscream standing in the Hall of Heroes crowned Decepticon high commander only moments earlier. Of himself swooping low inside Cyclonus' cockpit, leaping out as they came into land. Starscream's words: "Who disrupts my coronation?"

His reply followed, vivid in his mind: "Coronation, Starscream? This is bad comedy!"

And then had come those final, fatal words: "Megatron? Is that you?"

And he had replied even as he activated his transformation systems: "Here's a hint!" His artillery mode had landed on the floor, the particle accelerator cannon at its head lifting to target his traitorous lieutenant. He remembered triggering the weapon, and the rush of unbelievable power that had flooded through him as he had finally reduced Starscream to atomic debris.

A faint smile crossed his lips. How he wished to simply do that again. But it had been a different universe and a different time. He had been a Child of Unicron, the mightiest being in the universe. He had laid waste to all who had opposed him, annihilating the Autobots and even their mightiest warrior Rodimus Prime. And in this time and place he was not that being. Another had become one with him, fused together as one being by another traitorous lieutenant. A lieutenant that had escaped him and even now would be plotting his next logical course of action. Here and now, Starscream was not his greatest threat. Shockwave had assumed that position, and he would be the one reduced to ash when he found him. The overlord felt the two sides of his memory vying for control, and with a supreme force of will he silenced them. He was not them. They were gone, and he would not repeat the mistakes of either of them!

Returning his attention to the throne room, his optics looked at Starscream. The primitive being before him was no threat to him. A primitive Seeker, upgraded over the vorns but still ancient in its basic design. Starscream was obsolete, not worthy of his attention any longer. The future was his. Let Starscream and his Seekers cling to the past that had spawned them!

Eventually, he deigned to speak to the primitive mechanism before him. "Megatron and Galvatron no longer exist! They died at the hands of a traitor too weak to fight them himself! I am the instrument of their revenge. The spawn of their combined power and genius. I am the Avenger. The Hand that will wipe all opposition from this universe. The Destroyer of Worlds. I am Mega Galvatron, the Ultimate Warrior, and I will lead the Decepticon Empire to rule this universe!" Mega Galvatron had lifted his clawed hands above his head as he spoke, his clenched fists crackling with energon that overflowed from his internal stores through the waveguides in his palms, his immense wings spread wide behind him, the panels in his abdomen glowing with contained energy and his optics burning in a face twisted by a thirst for domination. Starscream took this in, recognising that this new being was more powerful and more insane than Megatron had ever been, and that to cross him at this juncture would be a fatal mistake. Swallowing his pride, Starscream dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "I swear loyalty to you, my liege. Undying and unyielding. May your empire last until this universe grows cold." Every word burned in Starscream's cerebral processors, forging his own ambitions for power into a desire to destroy this being whatever it took. For several long kliks he waited for this madmech's reply, and when it didn't come he felt a growing sense of foreboding under the baleful gaze of Mega Galvatron. Nervously, he looked up to meet the Supreme Overlord's gaze. "My liege?" he asked, anxiously.

"I accept your oath, Starscream of Vos, and I will hold you to it!" Mega Galvatron smiled viciously, a look of perverse satisfaction on his face. His grin broadened as though in full knowledge of something that the aerospace commander was missing. After a further painful stretch of time, he spoke again, his tone almost gloating. "However, we now have a slight problem. My armies have two aerospace commanders. You and Cyclonus." Starscream's face betrayed his sudden rage. "What?" he asked indignantly.

"That isn't disloyalty I hear in your voice, is it, Starscream?"

"Of course not, my liege."

"Then what shall we do to resolve our mutual problem?" asked Mega Galvatron. "There is only room for one aerospace commander in the Decepticon army."

"Then it stands to reason that it should be me who retains the authority," replied Starscream, rising to his feet and turning to face a Cyclonus whose face was split by a broad gloating smile. "I have kilovorns of experience in the Decepticon forces. What qualifications does he have?" He pointed an accusing finger at the purple saboteur.

"One word, Starscream," said Cyclonus. "Loyalty."

"Loyalty?" spat Starscream incensed. "No one has given more to the Decepticon cause than I! I served as aerospace commander during our rise to victory in the Great War! I have earned the title and the authority!"

"Pah!" spat Scourge. "Megatron led the Decepticons to near victory in spite of you, Starscream, not because of you!"

Starscream rounded on the blue tracker. "You dare question my-"

"Silence!" The explosion threw all three off their feet and across the room. Starscream immediately rose into a defensive posture, his optics darting around the room before centring on Mega Galvatron. The Supreme Overlord was standing on his dais, both his forearms now sporting a black particle-accelerator cannon, the translucent red barrel of the right-hand cannon smoking. Starscream turned his attention to the site of the explosion. The cannon's destructive blast of energy had torn a hole in the floor that plunged through several levels of the fortress before dissipating. Across the crater, Cyclonus and Scourge were climbing to their feet, their attention turning to their leader. Starscream also straightened, turning to the overlord, whose optics were burning a bright scarlet. "The three of you are all unworthy of being in my presence!" he roared. "No wonder my forebears failed to destroy the Autobots when surrounded by such inadequacy! The next outburst from any of you will be terminal!" He strode from the throne, descending to the throne room floor and crossing between them. He turned to face them, blocking their exit from the room. "Now, you will listen to me and you will obey!" he said, his voice rumbling deeply. "Cyclonus will be aerospace commander of my armies. Scourge will lead a new breed of Sweep drones at the head of my forces." He turned to Starscream, unable to keep the gloating smile of superiority off his face. "And you, Starscream, will lead the Seekers as a rearguard to the Sweeps."

"What?" Starscream could remain silent no longer. The indignity was more than he could bare. If this insane amalgamation of Megatron and Galvatron killed him as a result, it would be preferable to the shame. "Rearguard? I would rather die than be reduced to such a menial level!"

"Really?" chuckled Mega Galvatron, lifting one of his cannons to Starscream, the barrel mere centicubits from the Seeker's face. "That can be arranged right now, Starscream!"

"I demand my right to respect as a Decepticon warrior!" snapped Starscream, enraged. "This dishonour is worse than death!" His optics were burning white with his anger as he looked directly into the overlord's ruby gaze. "I demand my right to defend my honour! To retain my position. And to destroy that arrogant moron!" He pointed his finger past Mega Galvatron to the smirking form of Cyclonus.

"You demand from me?" asked Mega Galvatron, grinning viciously. "Why, Starscream, I didn't think you had it in you." His laugh reverberated around the chamber, deep and menacing, and totally mad. "Very well, Starscream, you shall have your right to defend your honour." He lowered his cannon, both units returning to subspace as he did so, and turned to Cyclonus. "I believe, Cyclonus, that you have been challenged," he said. "Do you accept?"

"With pleasure," replied the purple saboteur, smiling.

"Very well," said the overlord, turning back to Starscream. "Your challenge has been accepted, Starscream of Vos. As challenger, you have the choice of weapon and location."

"Good," smiled Starscream, his optics burning with righteous anger as he looked into Cyclonus' smugly grinning face. "We will fight in single-combat with whatever weapons and capabilities we each possess. The location will be the Imperial Amphitheatre at sunrise tomorrow in front of the assembled forces of the Decepticon armies. The winner will take the title of Decepticon aerospace commander-"

"-and the loser will take a one-way trip to the Pit!" Cyclonus finished for him.

"Of course," replied Starscream. "May the best Decepticon emerge victorious."

"Oh, I will," chuckled Cyclonus.

"Your overconfidence will be your downfall, Unicronian!" spat Starscream.

"And so will yours, Seeker!" growled Cyclonus.

"Excellent," chuckled Mega Galvatron. "Then it is agreed." He turned from them and returned back to his throne, sitting down. He turned to Starscream. "You are dismissed, Starscream." The Seeker bowed, then saluted, and backed out of the throne room, his mind already working out his tactics for the coming fight. 


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two The Arena

Polyhex City-state, Sector Alpha-007, Imperial Amphitheatre Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8329 - 3401 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth Date: 28 August 2070, 07:52 HOURS

The Imperial Amphitheatre was one of the major monuments of Central Polyhex, an enormous gladiatorial arena scooped out at one end of the Xystum Legionum Audacium that ran from it to the Grand Forum in sector alpha-001. Numerous flyways, highways and plazas converged on the amphitheatre - a hub of the city's vast transit network - in a knot of transit systems that ran under the vast metal square surrounding the bowl of the amphitheatre, above whose walls stood the statues of Polyhex's greatest gladiators and Decepticon warriors. At this time of day, before the solar dawn, the amphitheatre glowed like a beacon from within its colonnade walls and tiers of seating, and with a battle scheduled for sunrise the surrounding square was also lit and bustling with activity. Though Decepticon security was on high alert for enemy forces taking advantage of the light and activity for a bombing raid, on the ground there was an air of near unconcern over that possibility. It was as though the light itself was a symbol of their eventual victory, mocking their enemies and daring them to attack. As most of the city was under wartime blackout during the Cybertronian night, this display was all the more impressive, visible for kilocubits in every direction. Even in the Grand Forum.

Starscream was already present at the amphitheatre, his personal medical teams from the Rookery tweaking and tuning his every system to optimal as he lay silent and contemplative on the repair table of one of the many preparation bays in the warren of service areas that plunged deep beneath the arena into the under-city of Polyhex. To one side of the room, a second team of his most trusted mechanics and engineers worked on the currently dormant Pretender shell that formed part of his impressive arsenal. His weapon systems lay out on a second table, their components tested and tuned by the best gunsmiths in the Seeker ranks. Apart from Starscream and his support staff, the only other occupant of the bay was his lieutenant, Thundercracker, who was trying to hide the concern that he felt over the coming battle, and with each passing breem becoming more and more incapable of maintaining his calm.

Unable to remain silent any longer, Thundercracker spoke. "Are you sure this is such a good idea? We don't exactly have the info on Cyclonus to work out your tactics. Do you even know what he's capable of?"

"You worry too much, Thundercracker," replied Starscream, casting a glance over at his lieutenant without moving. "Cyclonus' belief in his own Unicronian superiority will be my greatest weapon."

"I guess," replied Thundercracker, unconvinced.

"I cannot fail, Thundercracker," chuckled Starscream. "My Pretender shell is the most advanced weapon system in the Decepticon army. With its firepower coupled to my own, I am unstoppable. Even Optimus Prime fears it!"

"I just hope you know what you're doing is all," sighed Thundercracker.

"When have you ever known me to act without thinking?" asked Starscream. "I always know what I'm doing!" Thundercracker didn't answer, unable to find a response that would be both acceptable to his commander and the truth. He couldn't help doubting Starscream's ability to win, and should Starscream lose he doubted that he alone could hold the Seekers together as a fighting force without him. He was no commander, and almost everyone knew it! Sure, he enjoyed the perks of being Starscream's deputy, but he didn't have the initiative to be overall commander of the Seekers. And he could not be bothered with answering the string of challenges from Concussion and other ambitious officers that would follow! "How long until sunrise?" asked Starscream, interrupting Thundercracker's chain of thought with the question, unable to verify the answer himself with most of his systems in diagnostic mode.

"Approximately nine breems, commander Starscream," replied a medic before Thundercracker could supply the answer.

"And how long until I am at optimal combat effectiveness?"

"Another breem for your internal diagnostics, sir," replied the medic, a dark-grey and red lightly built Seeker. "Approximately two for your shell and weapons. Following that, another breem for refuelling and fully integrating the fresh energon into your combined Pretender systems. In all, approximately three breems."

"Perfect," smiled Starscream. "I can't wait to wipe the arrogant smirk of that Unicronian scum's face!"

"If you can't beat him when we're finished, commander, he can't be beaten! This is the best work my teams have accomplished in all their functional cycles!"

"It had better be, Triage!" replied Starscream. "If you know what's good for you! My death will signal yours. My elite squadrons have their orders…"

"Then we have nothing to fear, sir," replied the medic. "With this level of mechanical preparation, your success is assured." Starscream was too busy revelling in his imagined victory to see the look of concern pass through the medic's optics, though Thundercracker caught a glimpse of it and his lips tightened slightly. Even the medics doubted Starscream's ability to beat Cyclonus! Of all the stupid and foolhardy things Thundercracker had seen Starscream do in the vorns he had served under the aerospace commander, this time he had really rewritten the stupidity scale! He just wished Starscream would live not to regret it. The only other option was his head on Cyclonus' wall.

Imperial Amphitheatre Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8329 - 3410 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 28 August 2070, 09:07 HOURS

Cybertron's new home-star was beginning to rise over the western horizon as activity at the Imperial Amphitheatre reached its height. As bustling crowds of Decepticon warriors and sympathisers poured into the multiple tiers that ringed the combat arena, slave workers stood ready on the sidelines with refreshments for the senior Decepticon officials who would be present to view the spectacle of the coming fight. Outside the arena, salesmen stood ready to swindle energon off the spectators for an 'official' keepsake of the biggest fight of the decavorn. Some would come to regret their decision to attempt to cheat Decepticon warriors, if they lived long enough, but the majority would make a killing out of the inexperienced, the hangers-on and the trophy hunters by the end of the morning's events.

Mega Galvatron sat in the private observation lounge that straddled one wall of the amphitheatre, looking down into the arena on one side and down the statue-lined Xystum Legionum Audacium to the Grand Forum and the vast Hall of Warriors on the other. Scourge stood beside him, the doors guarded by several of his Sweeps. Once the crowd had taken their seats, the Supreme Overlord and his lieutenant would step out onto the high commanders' podium overlooking the arena to watch the fight. The Megatron part of him looked forward to seeing Starscream come to regret his arrogance. The Galvatron part looked forward to the spectacle of his fellow Unicronian destroying his opponent. The unified whole, however, was largely unconcerned by the outcome. Such primitive beings were below his notice. Which one became cannon fodder in his army and which died here - Starscream or Cyclonus - was an irrelevance.

Scourge was watching events in the arena as the assembled Decepticon forces took their seats, the bustle of activity eventually dying down. He could practically smell the energon that was to be spilled by the combatants. He longed to see the look of sheer horror on Starscream's face when Cyclonus tore his head from his shoulders. Eventually, everyone was seated, and he turned to his leader. "The Decepticons are assembled, mighty one."

"Excellent," smiled Mega Galvatron, rising to his feet a tower of metal that looked down on Scourge from above. "Then shall we proceed to the main event, Scourge?" He neither awaited, expected nor wanted a response. Scourge was irrelevant to him now. A primitive inferior being not worthy of being in Mega Galvatron's presence. The entire Decepticon army was nothing but a means to an end. The tool of his domination of the universe. And like all tools, intrinsically replaceable.

As the Plexiglas doors of the observation lounge parted ahead of him and he stepped out onto the short flight of steps that led down to his podium, a cheer went up from the assembled Decepticons. Word had gone throughout Polyhex that the Supreme Overlord was Megatron returned to them, and had virtually assured his hold on power. All the Scorponoks and Shockwaves in the galaxy would be unable to stand against him now. Their destruction and Mega Galvatron's ascension were only a matter of time! He basked in the cheers and glorifying of those assembled around him - ignoring the distaste of those parts of his mind that were Megatron - for several moments before descending to his seat on the podium with the rest of the Decepticon high command. As he took his seat, the cheers continued until Colossus, the Decepticon military operations commander, stepped forward from his seat below the overlord and addressed the crowd in gruff rasping tones. "My fellow Decepticons, your Supreme Overlord has returned to you! As a gift, he brings to you this fight between two of the greatest Decepticon warriors, the victor to assume the position of Decepticon aerospace commander, the loser to be terminated."

Below in the arena, a heavy reinforced door opened at either end, and from within each entered the two competitors. As Starscream and Cyclonus stepped into clear view of the assembled Decepticons, Colossus continued. "Behold the challengers. Starscream of Vos, and Cyclonus the Unicronian. May the Ultimate Warrior be with the one who deserves victory, and may the Pit take the unworthy loser!" He turned his attention to the two Decepticons in the arena. "Starscream of Vos, Cyclonus the Unicronian, are you ready to show your worth?"

"I am!" replied Starscream.

"Victory will be mine!" replied Cyclonus.

Colossus turned to the overlord and saluted. "The challengers await your word, my liege." Mega Galvatron barely looked at his operations commander as he stood, looking down at the two Decepticons with barely an interest. This fight held little point. If he could destroy one of them now he would and bring his victory that bit closer. Cyclonus and Starscream saluted him. Containing his sigh of impatience, he summoned one of his arm cannons from subspace and pointed it into the air over the stadium. With a thought, the blast of charged particles erupted into the atmosphere, fading into the far distance in Polyhex's yellowish smoggy air.

Even before Mega Galvatron had returned to his throne, Starscream and Cyclonus were on the move. Starscream fell back, attempting to escape his opponent's firing range, even as Cyclonus went on the offensive. The purple saboteur launched himself towards the Seeker, tackling him to the floor with a crash of metal. Before he could secure his hold, Starscream was wriggling free, the missile launchers in his chest firing a low-yield cluster bomb that threw Cyclonus into the air. He winced as he absorbed the recoil of the launcher and the close-range explosion of his own ordnance, pushing it aside even as his heel jets fired and thrust him upwards into the air. With a thought his robot form contorted into fighter mode, the F-22 soaring up over the arena, afterburners on full burn. With a skill practised over countless vorns, he rolled back in mid-air, turning down towards his opponent even as he activated his weapons systems. Cannons and missiles unfolded from his belly, and a flurry of null rays blasted the recovering Cyclonus from his feet.

Roaring his anger, Cyclonus back-flipped to his feet and with barely a pause launched himself into the air. Transforming to fighter mode, his nuclear-powered engines accelerated him upwards at a tremendous rate. Lasers lanced out towards Starscream from beam ports on his wings. Starscream banked sideways as he fired, the beams missing all but the tip of his starboard wing. "First blood to me, Starscream!" he shouted in triumph.

"A lucky shot!" replied the Seeker, banking sharply into his previous manoeuvre. Cyclonus banked after the more primitive Terran fighter, initiating a targeting lock on his opponent. At a thought, his four missile launchers fired, sending a volley of plasma missiles tearing through the air towards Starscream. As Cyclonus manoeuvred for another shot, his tactical processors monitored his missiles as they continued on-target.

At the last moment, with Cyclonus' missiles almost up his exhaust nozzles, Starscream pulled up sharply in a manoeuvre no human fighter could have replicated with primitive jet-turbine engines, simultaneously launching a pair of cluster bombs. As Cyclonus' missiles entered the explosive field of his own bombs, he detonated them by remote. Though the blast scorched his belly, Starscream escaped serious injury and flipped over onto a direct course for Cyclonus, trailing smoke from his damaged wing in his wake. His null rays targeted and fired, moments before a volley of cluster bombs launched towards the Unicronian.

Cyclonus banked away from the null rays, his tactical systems already detecting the missile launch and processing a countermove. As the bombs approached, a vent at his tail opened, releasing a cloud of antimissile countermeasures that detonated the incoming cluster bombs harmlessly. Swooping in low over the arena floor, he shot at high speed towards the opposite wall, Starscream coming close in pursuit with a blast of null rays. At the last moment, he banked up, skimming low over the crowded tiers. Behind, Starscream's engines shot into full reverse as he slowed to avoid impact. As Cyclonus' attention was distracted by his opponent's struggle, his wing-tip caught on one of the seated Decepticons, flipping the warrior up into the air and sheering the tip off Cyclonus' wing. As the injured spectator plunged back into the crowd on a lower tier, Cyclonus pulled sharply away from the enclosed tiers and back out over the arena.

Starscream transformed to robot mode as he came close to the wall, his feet grinding into the arena floor as he slowed himself to a stop, ignoring the pain and moments later switching back to fighter mode and roaring up after Cyclonus at full speed. His weapons systems engaged and locked on Cyclonus, and moments later a cloud of cluster bombs were soaring up towards the other Decepticon. As Cyclonus turned back towards Starscream, he hit the volley, their simultaneous detonations firing all around him. The multiple impacts sent waves of pain through Cyclonus' circuitry, almost forcing an emergency shutdown before he deactivated his pain receptors.

Starscream watched as his opponent flew clear of the blasts, his hull pockmarked and buckled but otherwise unharmed unlike the unfortunate spectators in the upper tiers who had been caught in the explosion shock waves and tossed out of their seats. "Why don't you die?" Starscream shouted angrily, firing his null rays at full power.

"It will take more than your pitiful weapons to destroy me, Starscream!" replied Cyclonus, his voice strained with exertion as he banked around Starscream's target locks. His own lasers fired down at the Seeker, who ceased fire to concentrate on evading Cyclonus' own target locks. Firing lasers and null rays, the two fighters streaked across the arena towards one another, their wing-tips and tail fins taking beam impacts from the other.

Collision warnings shrieked inside Cyclonus' head, red beacons flashing across his visual field. Starscream was mere hectocubits from him and closing, showing no sign of slowing down. If Cyclonus had had a mouth in fighter mode, he would have grinned as collision approached. At the last second he dropped below Starscream and engaged banking thrusters, his long low-profile form turning bow-to-stern and the prong on his nose-cone sliding forwards, the tip spiralling open. Cyclonus' engines fired, propelling his nose prong up towards Starscream's fuselage, a potent concoction of corrosive chemicals and acids ready to be injected into the Seeker's internal systems.

At the last moment Starscream transformed to robot mode, his hands closing around the prong even as he switched modes and pushing Cyclonus away from his hull. He flipped even as he pushed Cyclonus away, finishing his backward somersault by grabbing Cyclonus' tail fins. "Get off me!" Cyclonus roared, banking sharply to throw his opponent off. Starscream fired his heel jets to keep himself steady, his fingers gouging into Cyclonus' tail fins and buckling them out of shape. Removing one hand, he pulled his fist back to smash it through Cyclonus' fuselage, and Cyclonus used the opportunity to drop vertically. Starscream fell away, shearing off the tail fin in his hand in the process. Cyclonus roared as smoke erupted from his torn fuselage, and shifted to robot mode.

Cyclonus turned to Starscream, bringing his corrosion rifles from subspace. Twin streams of corrosive high-energy particles tore into his opponent's port wing, cutting it almost clear from his shoulder. Starscream clutched at the wound as he fell through the air towards the ground. His face twisting with anger, he targeted his arm cannons on Cyclonus and fired, null rays hitting the saboteur in the chest. Cyclonus felt the circuit-searing pain for a few brief moments before shutting it off. The paralysis, however, was not so easy to overcome. As he plunged towards the arena floor, he initiated an accelerated reboot of his motor systems. At the last minute, he managed to turn himself over and landed on his hands and knees on the floor.

Starscream approached his downed opponent, oblivious to his own damaged wing in his sense of victory. His arm cannons targeted Cyclonus' head, and a smirking leer parted his lips. "So, Cyclonus," he gloated. "My pitiful weapons cannot hope to destroy you, can they?" He moved closer, wanting to see the look of inevitability on his opponent's face as he terminated him. "They don't seem to have done that bad a job, do they?" His smirk broadened as he charged his cannons to full power. "Goodbye, Cy-"

Cyclonus' clasped fists slammed into Starscream's abdomen as the saboteur swung his full power at the Seeker. The sounds of shattering glass and rending metal filled the air as his hands tore through Starscream's exo-plating and shattered his fighter-mode cockpit. Starscream fell back, too shocked to even vocalise the pain flooding his circuits. As he fell, red warnings flashed in his visual field.

pelvic motor circuit damage - unable to switch to backups - immediate repairs essential

Starscream looked up helplessly as Cyclonus regained his footing, his own legs unable to respond to the commands from his cerebro-circuits. As Cyclonus walked towards him, he targeted an arm cannon, only for Cyclonus to kick it away. His foot pushed down on Starscream's forearm, crushing it and the cannon barrel, eliciting another wave of emergency warnings in the Seeker's visual field.

"Not so smug now, are you Starscream?" chuckled Cyclonus, withdrawing his corrosion rifles from subspace and targeting Starscream's torn abdominal plating. "Well, it was more of a challenge than I was expecting, but unfortunately it has to end." Starscream stared helplessly up at the two weapons targeted on him, and felt a blind rage flood up inside him. It could not end this way! His death was unthinkable! And then his tactical processors offered up their solution. Starscream smiled, initiating his subspace systems and opening his pocket several cubits behind his opponent.

Subspace pocket accessed - activating shell - thermal carbine charged

The techno-organic humanoid ploughed into Cyclonus from behind, barrelling both itself and Cyclonus over Starscream's head and to the floor of the arena, scattering Cyclonus' rifles from his grip. Starscream smiled as his vision doubled, showing him the visual field of both his own optics and the eyes of his Pretender shell.

Bringing his shell's sensor and motor systems to the fore in his consciousness, his own body sank into the background and his shell became his primary sensorimotor system. Cyclonus lay before him, struggling to throw his powerful techno-organic body aside and regain the offensive. His black-gloved fist smashed into the Unicronian's face, spiked knuckles tearing facial exo-plating to reveal the underlying support structure and circuitry of his right cheek. He followed through with his other fist, sheering the left cranial horn from its mount with the pleasant sound of shrieking metal. "You don't stop me that easily, Cyclonus!" he snarled, his voice slightly deeper from the vocal circuits of his shell. "I warned you not to underestimate me!"

"You think," grunted Cyclonus, "that this hulking flesh-creature is going to fair any better than your robotic form did?" As he finished speaking, he finally managed to get his knees in between himself and the shell, launching it over his head.

Starscream twisted in mid-air, landing nimbly on his feet and drawing his thermal carbine rifle from subspace. He targeted Cyclonus and fired, only the saboteur's quick reflexes saving him from the high-energy beam, though his exo-plating bubbled and sheered away where his upper arm received a glancing hit. Starscream circled around him, staying between him and his fallen weapons. "Now whose weapons are inferior?" Starscream jeered. "This is the most advanced Pretender technology known to Decepticon science!"

"Pah!" spat Cyclonus. "All the Pretender shells on the planet are next to nothing when compared to the powers of the Chaos Bringer!"

"I don't see him standing here, Cyclonus," Starscream laughed. "As I recall, he was so powerful that one Autobot destroyed him completely!" What remained of Cyclonus' face twisted into an enraged sneer, and he launched himself at Starscream's shell, roaring incoherently. The force of the impact shocked even Starscream, and he was smashed into the ground to a few centicubits. Cyclonus' fists smashed into the shell's armoured hide repeatedly, sheering chunks of armour from the underlying techno-organic flesh and circuitry. Starscream pounded Cyclonus in the chest and face, sheering off more of his exo-plating in the process, but failed to subdue his opponent's assault.

Cyclonus pummelled the Pretender shell below him, allowing his rage and destructive lusts - gifts from Unicron - full sway. Nothing could stand against him as he repeatedly smashed fists into the humanoid, barely aware of himself or his surroundings. With one final roar, he clasped his hands together and smashed them down into the shell's torso. The damaged armour shattered, shards showering him and embedding in the shell's underlying flesh, and his hand crushed through the underlying structure and deep into the shell's hollow innards. The shell screamed, an almost mechanical sound, and the scream was taken up by the crippled Starscream robot behind Cyclonus. His roar unabated, Cyclonus grabbed the edges of the rupture in the shell, and pulled apart. The shell's structural integrity failed, ripping it in two under the force of Cyclonus' unrestrained strength.

Starscream felt every circuit in the shell explode with pain through his neural connection. Unable to shut off the incredible rush of sensory data and warning beacons, the pain shot through every inch of his cerebro-circuitry, overloading circuits and memory cores. His body shuddered with the overload, and as warnings flashed red across his visual field his vision dimmed and the painless darkness claimed him.

Still proclaiming his rage at the top of his vocoder's volume range, Cyclonus stood over the devastated shell, its body ripped in two and sparking circuitry and energon waveguides trailing from the edges. A pool of white bio-nutrient mingled with iridescent oils and green lubricants around it. As the last of his rage escaped through his vocoder, his burning red optics turned to Starscream's robot mode. He walked towards the fallen Seeker and lifted him up by the neck in one hand. Starscream hung limp in his grip, and he turned his optics to the high commanders' podium to signal victory. He lifted his other arm, a beam port opening in his forearm and targeting on Starscream's head. One command from his cerebro-circuits and Starscream would be terminally deactivated. Above him, Mega Galvatron looked on dispassionately, completely disinterested in him or his battle. Cyclonus met his commander's gaze. And saw nothing.

His optics dropped to look at the destroyed shell, and then across to Starscream. How he wanted to terminate his opponent, to finish him once and for all. He looked again at Mega Galvatron, for some sign that the Supreme Overlord had cared who won the fight, and saw none. His sense of victory diminished, replaced by a feeling of irrelevance. The fight went out of him. He dropped his arm, the beam port iris closing as he did so. Without another word, he tossed Starscream aside and walked to Mega Galvatron. "My lord," he called. "I am victorious."

Mega Galvatron looked down at him: such a small and insignificant insect, like all the Cybertronians. They were irrelevant. His destiny was beyond this primitive metal world. Beyond this primitive galaxy. He was the most powerful being in the universe, and it was all just fodder to him. A resource to be harvested for his own needs. He spoke, his tone neutral and disinterested. "I salute you, Cyclonus."

"My liege," whispered Colossus. "Starscream still lives. He has not terminated him!"

Mega Galvatron looked at the military operations commander with unconcealed indifference. Eventually, he turned to Cyclonus. "Why do you not terminate your challenger, Cyclonus?" he asked.

"I tire of this charade," replied Cyclonus. "Why should I care to destroy something so clearly beneath my notice?"

"Those are the rules!" shouted Colossus. "It is the nature of the challenge! You must terminate Starscream, or be terminated yourself!"

"And who will terminate me, Colossus?" laughed Cyclonus. "You?" Colossus fell silent, though his anger bubbled beneath his face-mask. "Supreme Overlord, I request that Starscream be allowed to live," called Cyclonus. "May he be denied a warrior's death like the traitor he is!"

Mega Galvatron repressed his sigh. Had he breathed, he would have yawned. He bored of this waste of his attention. He stood up, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of Cyclonus, before climbing the stairs to the observation lounge. The other high commanders watched him go with varying degrees of chagrin, anger and contempt. Scourge stepped forward to address the Decepticons. "The Supreme Overlord has accepted Cyclonus' request," he told them. "Cyclonus is now Decepticon aerospace commander. May anyone who wishes take Starscream's remains." Without another word, he followed Mega Galvatron to the observation lounge as Cyclonus crossed to the exit from the arena. A murmur of confusion and indignation ran through the tiers as the Decepticons began to leave.

Polyhex City-state, Sector Gamma-107, the Rookery Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8330 - 141 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 7 September 2070, 09:32 HOURS

He was in darkness, completely adrift in a sea of sensory deprivation. Even the autonomic impulses of his body were absent from the back of his mind. But once again he was aware of this limbo. No welcoming oblivion had claimed him when his body had gone off-line. Other Cybertronians had little recollection of deactivation. Of reaching a point this close to terminal systems failure. For Starscream, however, this release was denied. He had slept soundly for nearly 50 kilovorns aboard the Ark following its crash on Earth, as oblivious to it as the rest of the deactivated Transformers who had shared that makeshift tomb. But that had changed on Earth. He had absorbed the powers of the Underbase, and it had destroyed him. He should have died then, but he had found himself lingering on inside his body. The Underbase had changed him. Cursed him to this half-life whenever death beckoned. It had robbed him of a final release. Though he had found this a boon in the beginning, it was fast becoming a curse. Without a functioning body, he had no means of connecting with the physical world. Remained trapped in this unfeeling limbo, broken only rarely by glimpses of the world outside his personal hell and even then unable to interact with it. Surely even the Pit had to be preferable to this!

systems reboot initiated - awaiting diagnostic checks - please stand by

It had been such a long period of darkness, that the initial signal from his body came as a shock. A sense of elation filled him. His Seekers had come for him. They had known he was still trapped inside his deactivated form! He would be resurrected from this half-life and have his vengeance!

central cranial processors initiating - memory cores at 97.4 efficiency

As his biomechanical circuitry activated, Starscream felt himself integrating with them. His spark-consciousness spread into cold metal circuits and a spark of full consciousness returned. As his spark and circuits became one, his memories of the darkness faded to a haunting shadow in his subconscious, to be remembered only in his dreams. The awareness of his autonomic systems came into focus, the once remote reboot messages flooding him with data. Systems checks and boot records surged through his consciousness as his brain came to life. He was aware of the success of the checks, his boot files uncorrupted by his prolonged deactivation. He became aware of internal chronometers, their autonomous systems having ticked away even during his time off-line. A time that amounted to over seventeen hectobreems, nearly seven solar periods.

sensors online in 10 kliks - vocoder system activation in 17 kliks

Starscream's sensor systems began to reactivate, beginning with his tactile and thermal sensors. He was in a cool room. Judging from the air current patterns it was quite a large bay. A hard surface was below him: a repair table. Cables and tubes were connected to several umbilical ports around his body. As electromagnetic sensors activated, he sensed power systems within the room, and the close presence of several Cybertronians. The sounds of dripping fluids and humming power lines came into his awareness as his audio systems came online, whispered voices all around him. Radio-wave sensors activated, before switching to idle-mode. Finally, his optic sensors activated.

At first he detected a dim light that brightened as his sensors came to full strength. As autonomous light-responsive subsystems adjusted his visual circuits to the available light and his lenses came into focus, the room swam out of the light and into his view. He was in one of the Rookery's repair bays, a team of Seeker medics and mechanics standing around his repair table monitoring his system reboot and operating medical equipment to guide his own stumbling internal reboot programs. One of the medics - the Seeker called Triage - looked into his face, checking for visual signs of reboot problems. "Sir, are you online? This is Triage. You are back in the Rookery. We recovered you after the fight."

Starscream struggled to speak as his vocoder activated, a stuttering whine of feedback eventually resolving into struggling words. "What happened?"

"That isn't important now," replied Triage. "You need to achieve optimal system performance first."

"Not important?" Starscream shouted, the strain of overloading his vocoder with emotions so soon after reactivation sending a wave of red warning messages flashing across his vision. "I will decide what is important, medic!"

Thundercracker stepped into view, pushing Triage aside as he turned his attention to Starscream. "You lost, Starscream," he shrugged. "Cyclonus crippled you and then tore your shell in two. The neural shock from its destruction almost killed you."

"Almost?" asked Starscream. "Cyclonus should have-"

"Cyclonus spared your life," Thundercracker spat in disgust. "He denied you a warrior's death. Took your honour as a Decepticon warrior as well as your rank and title. And worse, Mega Galvatron has made the Sweeps his primary aerial assault forces. We Seekers have been reduced to guarding Polyhex. We are the laughing stock of the Decepticon army."

"Spared me?" asked Starscream, his mind torn between his elation at his continued survival and his rage at being shamed by his opponent. After a few moments of contemplation, his optics narrowed slyly and a slow smile spread across his lips. "More fool him!" he said. "Let him gloat, Thundercracker. Let them all gloat. Let Cyclonus and Scourge lead their glorified drones into battle against the Autobots. While they are busy doing that, we will be making our own plans. In the end, the Seekers will be the ones claiming victory!"

Polyhex City-state, Sector Gamma-107, the Rookery Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8330 - 940 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 12 September 2070, 00:30 HOURS

The corridors of the Rookery were alive with activity as well as a mix of apprehension and indignation. As Starscream strode down the corridors with Thundercracker by his side, his emotions were firmly in the latter camp! Thundercracker was being unusually quiet, and had been since Starscream's humiliating defeat. As it had many of the Seekers, Starscream's defeat and the subsequent reassignment of the Seekers to guard duty had hit Thundercracker as a personal humiliation and insult, one that Starscream felt they blamed on him. Starscream had made no effort to speak to his lieutenant in the days since he had reactivated in Triage's repair bay, though he had made rousing speeches to a largely demoralised Rookery with little effort. In truth, he couldn't bring himself to admit his own humiliation at Cyclonus' hands. For years he had been the brunt of Megatron's anger, and he had accepted that humiliation from the Decepticon High Commander in the knowledge that one day he would be in that position and would have his revenge, but to accept the humiliation of being defeated in a trial by combat with the likes of Cyclonus and then to be left alive was more than he could currently process.

And to add insult to injury, here were he and his Seekers rushing around in preparation for an official visit from their new aerospace commander Cyclonus. Well, if Cyclonus was expecting grovelling he would be sorely disappointed! Starscream would not demean himself to the likes of that purple-horned idiot! Oh, he would show Cyclonus the respect he deserved, what little that was. He may have won, but it was only a matter of time until Starscream showed him the error of believing in his own invincibility! One day Starscream would have Cyclonus at his feet, and he would not debase his victory with a weak show of compassion! Cyclonus' head would decorate the wall of his quarters.

The heavy reinforced doors of one of the Rookery's hangars slid open ahead of Starscream and Thundercracker, and they stepped through onto the vast hangar deck. In preparation for Cyclonus' arrival, the cargo ships and other shuttle craft had been cleared from the hangar into the storage bays below it, and a greeting party of two Seeker squadrons stood awaiting the new aerospace commander's arrival. The outer hangar doors were open to Cybertron's atmosphere in preparation, and the landing beacons were lit to guide Cyclonus and his entourage into the Rookery. As Starscream took his position with Thundercracker, Concussion and the Rookery's other senior officers, the hangar intercom system activated. "Hangar one, this is Rookery security," said a low feminine voice, "we have visual confirmation of the Darkmount delegation on approach." Her tone turned dark as she continued, practically spitting the first few words. "Aerospace commander Cyclonus has requested landing clearance."

Almost all the Seekers present bristled at the union of the title of aerospace commander with Cyclonus' name, not least of all Starscream. Eventually, he spoke. "Security, this is Starscream in hangar one. We are ready here, Huntress. Please pass on my sincerest greetings to commander Cyclonus and clear him for landing." Starscream felt the sudden urge to purge his fuel tank as he said Cyclonus' name. The humiliation was almost beyond his capacity to bear. Hailing the Unicronian dog as his commander was repellent. As Huntress affirmed Starscream's order, he turned to the assembled Seekers and had the squadrons line up on either side of the landing area while he and the senior officers stood at the end of the lines facing the hangar entrance.

For several decakliks they awaited Cyclonus' arrival until the sound of the new aerospace commander's powerful nuclear-turbine engines cut the air and his low-profiled aerospace fighter mode came into view outside the hangar. Behind him followed five identical fighters in the same purple and silver as their leader, and behind them came twelve blue and silver Sweep hover-ships. As they entered the hangar, they transformed en masse to their robot forms: Cyclonus at the front with five indistinguishable clones, and behind them the twelve blue and silver Scourge clones. Cyclonus stepped forward, his red gaze meeting Starscream's yellow optics and smiling at the defiance and anger hidden there. Starscream stepped forward from his officers and saluted Cyclonus before bowing his head in a show of service. "Commander Cyclonus, welcome to the Rookery," he said, keeping his tone steady with a show of immense willpower. "I trust your flight was uneventful?" No Autobots chose to launch an attack and wipe you out of the sky? he continued in the privacy of his thoughts. I'm sorry to hear that. Well, better look next time.

"So this is the Rookery," said Cyclonus, looking around with distaste. "Yes, I can see why you Seekers like the place so much." I cannot believe I was once this pathetic!

"So, commander," said Starscream. "Is this a sightseeing visit, or was there something you wished to discuss?"

"We'll get to that," said Cyclonus, his optics eyeing Starscream suspiciously. There was a tone of disrespect in the Seeker's voice even after his humiliation, and Cyclonus did not like it. Perhaps he should have just killed him in the arena after all. "We have things to discuss in private."

"I see. Then perhaps we should retire to my offices for a meeting."

"Agreed," he replied. He turned to the Sweeps. "You two, with me!" He indicated two of the Scourge clones, and they dutifully fell into step behind him. He turned to Starscream. "Shall we proceed?"

"As you wish, commander." Starscream indicated two of the Seekers to follow before leading Cyclonus from the hangar, their respective accompaniment falling in behind.

Starscream's offices were a large suite of rooms deep within the core of the Rookery, protected from attack by both heavily reinforced walls and the depth of its location within the Rookery's structure. As Starscream and Cyclonus passed the antechamber their respective warriors stayed in the small waiting area while the two commanders entered the large elliptical briefing room beyond, from which doors led into more private chambers. Starscream indicated to Cyclonus to take a seat at the large elliptical table in the centre of the room, and then sat opposite him. As he took his seat, he addressed Cyclonus. "So, what are these private matters we have to discuss?"

Cyclonus eyed his opponent cautiously before speaking. "Much as I would prefer for you and your Seekers to rot here in this tower to your own inferiority, the Supreme Overlord in his wisdom has deigned to request your assistance in his first strike against our mutual enemies, the Autobots."

"So, your master has sent you as his errand boy, has he?" Starscream's smile could barely express the full extent of his pleasure at this news.

"I am no one's errand boy!" growled Cyclonus, maintaining his calm with a supreme effort of will. There was too much truth in Starscream's comment for his liking. When he and Scourge had found the deactivated remains of Megatron and Galvatron, fused by the explosion of Shockwave's bomb, they had thought that they had found the answer to all their prayers. Orns of careful rebuilding had taken the shambling ruin of a Transformer and forged it into a Supreme Overlord they had thought worthy of leading the Decepticon Empire: Mega Galvatron. But the being they had nurtured into existence was not everything that they had expected, and that fact worried Cyclonus. "The Supreme Overlord has devised a strategy that will strike a crippling blow to the Autobots, and prove once and for all to Scorponok's renegades that we are the future of the Decepticon Empire."

"Has he?" asked Starscream. "He plans to do in one attack what Megatron could not do in the last 4 centivorns? And what is this miraculous plan of his?"

"I dislike your tone, Starscream," snapped Cyclonus. "Remember the oath you made at Darkmount! Mega Galvatron is not Megatron. He does not accept disloyalty from anyone!"

"I meant nothing, commander. My loyalty to the Supreme Overlord is undying."

"Remember that, Starscream!" warned Cyclonus. "His reaction to your faithlessness will be swift and deadly." Starscream bowed his head obediently. Cyclonus continued. "Mega Galvatron plans an assault on the very heart of Autobot culture. An attack that will leave the Autobot army in chaos and the civilian population with neither guide nor guard." Starscream's tactical processors absorbed Cyclonus' words, attempting to pre-empt him by finding the strategy being revealed. With every word, he felt more and more uneasy. "When our attack is over, the conquest of Cybertron will be a simple matter of mopping up the remaining resistance. The Autobot armies will be headless, and easily crushed!"

"He wants us to attack Iacon?" asked Starscream incredulously, his tactical processors exhausting all other possibilities. "Please tell me that is not his brilliant strategy!"

"Iacon is our target, yes," replied Cyclonus, unable to keep all of his own doubts from his voice. "The Supreme Overlord has calculated that without the leadership of Iacon, the other city-states will be easy targets."

"But the chances of launching a successful attack on Iacon at this stage in our conquest of Cybertron are 4257 to one! The Autobots have placed their elite forces in defence of Iacon's borders. The central city hub is protected by ground-based and sub-orbital assault platforms. It took us over a kilovorn to conquer Iacon during the Great War, and the city-state wasn't nearly as well defended then."

"You reveal your cowardice, Starscream," chuckled Cyclonus. "And you call yourself a Decepticon warrior!"

"A true Decepticon knows when to strike, but also when to wait," he replied. "There is no cowardice in avoiding a meaningless death, any more than there is bravery in dying in a suicide mission!"

"But that is not your choice to make, Seeker! It is the Supreme Overlord's decision. As a Decepticon you should follow without question!"

"Decepticon fuel flows in my lines, Cyclonus. The fuel of an enemy never vanquished, but waiting for the opportunity to strike. Successfully!" His lips twisted in a wry smile. "If you were any kind of Decepticon, you would know this to be true. But is it Decepticon fuel within you, or the fuel of a Unicronian pawn? Well?"

"You would dare to question my loyalties?" shouted Cyclonus, standing so fast that his seat was thrown across the room.

"No," replied Starscream. "Only whether they are a little misplaced. Now is not the time to attack Iacon. Surely you must see that? Any attack on Iacon will result in the decimation of our forces! Why throw away our lives so recklessly?"

"Because it is our duty as Decepticons," replied Cyclonus. "Our duty to serve the High Commander of the Decepticon armies. And that position is held by our Supreme Overlord. Mega Galvatron must be obeyed, whether we agree or not!"

"So, you don't agree with his plan?" Starscream smiled.

"I never said that!"

"You didn't have to. It was clear from your tone. So, how many of your Sweeps will be lost in this suicide mission our glorious leader has devised for us?"

"That is not my concern," replied Cyclonus. "Nor is it yours how many Seekers will die! Mega Galvatron has ordered that your best warriors reinforce his own forces and our Quintesson allies, and you will provide them." He looked down at Starscream, his optics narrowed to crimson slits. "You are no fool, Starscream. You know that you cannot deny the Supreme Overlord's request and live. Your Seekers will join this assault despite your own misgivings. None of us have any choice… Mission tactics and statistics will be communicated to you in due course. I leave the choice of squadrons to you. You know who your best warriors are." Without another word, Cyclonus turned and left the briefing room, leaving Starscream alone.

As the briefing room doors closed, Starscream rested his chin in his hand deep in thought. Cyclonus was as against this assault on Iacon as he was. Well, he may despise Cyclonus, but he could not deny the mech's tactical and strategic skills. The chances of escaping this assault with losses of less than eighty percent were minimal. They may destroy the leaders of the Autobot army and the civilian government in the process, but whether they would be able to capitalise on their success with their ranks decimated was doubtful. Even if the Quintessons provided reinforcements, he did not rate the chances of a Decepticon victory that was not hollow. Mega Galvatron may win his battle at Iacon, but with all likelihood it would lose him the war!

Starscream stood up and headed into his private office that branched off the briefing room. He would provide Seekers to this insane crusade. Cyclonus had been correct that he dared not deny Mega Galvatron's request. But by leaving the choice of squadrons to Starscream, Cyclonus had given him the potential for manoeuvring. Oh, he would take enough of his elite warriors to make a show of it to Mega Galvatron, but the majority of the Seekers would be low-ranking cannon fodder. That way, when the Supreme Overlord and commander Cyclonus had their elite forces decimated, the Seekers would have an edge in terms of skill and experience. As he sat down at his desk, he activated the computer terminal and brought up the personnel files for the Rookery. At the same time, he opened a communications channel, and ordered his senior officers to meet him in the briefing room within the groon. 


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three Iacon

Iacon City-state, Sector Alpha-015 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8330 - 4986 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 5 October 2070, 10:26 HOURS

Iacon was the jewel in Cybertron's crown, a city whose renown had spread across the known galaxy in the years between the end of the Great War and the beginning of the latest era of Decepticon hostilities. Sector Alpha was the heart of the city, a vast area of glittering polished domes and towers in gold and silver that shone at night like it had its own artificial sun. The sector was enclosed by a circle of golden sky-spires in which the Iaconian nobility lived in much the same way as they had since the time of Sentinel Prime. Further in, a second ring of thirteen spires enclosed the main governmental, religious and legal buildings, towering up to be lost from view kilometres overhead. This inner ring were the Sacred Spires of Iacon, one of the most recognised features of the city - next to the Great Dome at their centre in which the Council of Elders and Cybertronian Senate sat in government - and one of the oldest features on the planet. They were so old that some religious teachings held these spires to be the place from which each of the first thirteen Transformers separated from the body of Primus in Cybertron's youth.

Sub-sector Alpha-015 was outside the perimeter formed by the Sacred Spires, the skyline dominated by the multi-tower of Autobase over in Alpha-013, and was a rather bare and nondescript area of warehouses, storage silos and support structures for Autobot headquarters. As most of the area's labour was automated, it was rare that anyone actually took the time to come down to this part of the sector - especially at night - and the only sounds were the muffled noises of machinery from inside the buildings and the distant sound of the subterranean transit hub below ground-level.

Hot Rod sat alone in a shadowed trench formed by two low adjacent missile silos, his knees pulled up under his chin and his arms folded around them. He had been sitting here like this for several groons, unable to recharge because of the questions that were running around inside his head. Again! For decivorns he had felt as though he had missed his place in the universe. As if his destiny had missed him somehow over the vorns. Whatever gods still existed to govern the universe had forgotten about him after Optimus Prime had destroyed Unicron. And, if he was honest, that was when the feelings of drifting had started, and everything that had happened since had failed to negate that feeling. He had been through a lot in the intervening decivorns - becoming merged with Firebolt, accompanying Prime on a spiritual quest, discovering that he had been cloned by the Decepticon scientist Crack Brain - and it had only served to increase his confusion. Somehow he knew that he had been meant to do something more than just fight Decepticons until his spark was extinguished in battle, but what that was still eluded him. And just recently the feelings were growing worse!

Hot Rod absently played with a seedling scrap feeder that had worked its way into a crack in the trench floor at his feet, running the branching dull metal tendrils of the biomechanical plant between his fingers. He looked down at it and sighed. It was as out of place as he was. It should have been growing underground among the foundations of the city, causing headaches for the maintenance crews, but it had somehow ended up in the trench far from where it was supposed to be. He could relate. He remembered meeting the Order of the Spark during Optimus Prime's quest. Remembered one of their ascetics, Destiny, telling him that she saw a great future for him. That had been nearly two decivorns ago now, and this great future showed no sign of rearing its eminent head! He supposed that being well into his fortieth kilovorn he should have learned a little patience, but having spent most of that time in battle for his life, even a few decivorns of near-peace had took their toll on his patience. A part of him wished the Decepticons would hurry up and make a move: since conquering Polyhex they had been too busy trying to wipe out Scorponok's renegade faction to make more than a few token attacks on the Autobots.

"Here again, Hot Rod?" asked a deep warm masculine voice. Hot Rod turned to see Optimus Prime standing on top of the missile silo behind him, his imposing red form catching the light from a nearby flyway as he stood in the open. Prime was the definition of strength, his bulky robot mode towering over most of his troops. His bulky red chest was filled by the two translucent windshields of his vehicle mode. The heavy dark-blue barrels of two missile launchers ran down the back of his red shoulders. His bulky upper arms had heavy black wheels at the shoulders, and silver vehicle mode fenders and headlamps on the top. Twin silver cannons were mounted on his red forearms above dark-blue hands. A silver engine block flanked by cooling stacks ran down the centre of his abdomen, situated on the top of his bonnet in vehicle mode. His pelvis was dark-blue above silver thighs and red knees. His lower legs and feet were dark-blue, two heavy black wheels mounted on the outside of each leg below silver fuel tanks on the outside of his knees. His dark-blue cranial helmet was flanked by silver antennae rising from his audio domes. Dark-blue cheek struts and chin guard framed the silver face-mask that covered his mouth and nose below intelligent gold optics. A silver grille was embedded on the forehead of his helmet, two smaller grilles embedded in the tips of his cheek struts. A red Autobrand edged in silver stood out on either side of his abdomen.

"Optimus Prime, sir," said Hot Rod, jumping to his feet. "What brings you out here?"

"I just needed some time to clear my head," replied Optimus. "I've spent all day in briefings with the Security Corps over some troubling news from our covert operatives in Polyhex."

"Is it bad?" asked Hot Rod.

"We just don't know yet," replied Optimus, jumping down into the trench and sitting across from Hot Rod in the manner of the young cavalier. He indicated for Hot Rod to sit. "What about you?" he asked inquisitively. "As I recall, you are supposed to be on a recharge cycle right now."

"I don't know," sighed Hot Rod, slumping to the floor with a crash of metal on metal that would be audible decacubits away. "Just thinking."

"Brooding would be more accurate." Optimus looked into Hot Rod's optics with a probing stare as he spoke. "Are you still dwelling on what Destiny said when we found the Order of the Spark?"

"I guess," he sighed. "It's just, like I said before, I've felt sort of lost since the battle with Unicron. It's as if I missed something important that I was supposed to do, but I can't remember what it is."

"I see," replied Optimus pensively.

"I know you told me to look inside myself, Optimus, but I just can't do it! Whenever I try to figure out what's going on my mind starts to drift. I just don't have the discipline!"

"Discipline is learnt, Hot Rod, not inbuilt. If you want to discover where your path lies, you need to learn to quiet yourself. Remember what you learnt from Sagax and the Order. Primus may be gone, but the source can still be reached if you try."

"I know," sighed Hot Rod. He looked up at Optimus and smiled. "But does it have to be so damned hard?"

"The right way always is," Optimus told him. "To do things wrong is easy. It takes effort to do what is right."

Before Hot Rod could reply, the pre-dawn air was cut by the howling of air raid sirens. Only kliks later, Iacon's artificial lighting plunged into darkness, and ground-based searchlights began to scour the sky. "What's happening?" he asked Optimus.

"I don't know," replied the Autobot commander, his expression dark and troubled. "But I'm going to find out!" Even as he moved to stand, his body began to transform into vehicle mode. His abdomen swung forward and up, his upper arms twisting down and underneath to complete the bow of his truck form. His forearms folded up behind his shoulders forming the rear of his cab, the cannons forming dual smokestacks on either side as his head retracted from view. As his pelvis and thighs folded away beneath the cab, his lower legs folded out behind forming the rear wheelbase and trailer dock. As the ten-wheeler cab dropped onto its wheels, subspace unfolded behind it to reveal Prime's grey triple-axle 12-wheeler trailer unit, the sides detailed with red, dark-blue and silver stripes and twin Autobrands. "We need to get back to Autobase!" he told Hot Rod, his engine rumbling into life as he spoke.

"You got it, Prime!" Hot Rod replied, transforming in the blink of an eye to his own sleek low-slung Cybertronian assault racer mode. His engine growled as he revved its nanite-regulated drive motors with a mix of impatience and excitement. Beside him, the Autobot commander's imposing truck mode pulled away down the trench towards Autobase, Hot Rod tailgating him as they both accelerated.

Prime watched the young cavalier through the optic clusters in his wing mirrors. Had he been in robot mode, he would have shaken his head at the overeager young Autobot's antics. As it was, the collision sensors in his tail lights were shrieking warnings as Hot Rod almost shot under his rear axle in the confined space of the trench. "Hot Rod, get aboard!" he ordered, lowering his trailer's rear ramp. "We'll get there much quicker without you setting off my collision warnings every other klik!"

"Okay, Prime," replied Hot Rod, his tone slightly surly at having to ride back, before he accelerated up Prime's ramp and into the trailer. As the ramp lifted back into place, the trailer's interior lighting activated and he transformed. Once the ramp had locked back into position, he felt a surge of acceleration as Optimus drew on the full power of his engine systems.

As Prime accelerated towards the nearest subway access point to Autobase, thanking Primus for having been able to keep the power of his old Powermaster engine even after he and Hi-Q had been fused together, he activated his radio transceiver and scanned the airwaves for information on the alert. Automated security flooded his memory banks with information: Decepticon forces had been detected approaching sector Alpha, full appraisal of numbers still awaited. They had dropped into Autobot aerospace through a warp gate opened in Cybertron's upper atmosphere in sector Alpha-028 of Iacon. Shunting the security data to an automated processing subroutine in his unconscious circuitry, he linked up to the Autobot communications net and opened a channel to Autobase. "Optimus Prime to Autobase, I am in Alpha-015 on route to Autobase. Please respond, over!"

For a few seconds, the airwaves were undiluted chatter, before a voice broke into the surge of communications traffic. "Optimus Prime, this is Ultra Magnus in Autobase! We have detected Decepticon incursion in Alpha-028. Reports from perimeter posts in that sector indicate we have twenty wings of Sweeps supported by ten wings of Seekers and several squadrons of air transports. Polyhex must be empty!"

"Message understood, Ultra Magnus," replied Prime, his sense of urgency growing. This was bad. A battle of this scale was sheer suicide for all concerned! "Have the Elite Flying Corps deployed to engage the enemy?"

"They're scrambling now. We should intercept the Decepticons in Alpha-021. It's a mainly uninhabited sector of the city, primarily a transit nexus for Central Iacon, though there are a few civilian warehouses and factories in the sector."

"Have the civilians evacuated," Prime ordered. "And have all available Autobots report to that sub-sector to engage the enemy! I'm altering route to 021."

"Yes, sir," replied Ultra Magnus. "I'll meet you there. Autobase out." The communications channel closed, and Optimus turned his attention back to the road. As he accessed Iacon's transit maps, he altered course for the local primary transit terminal and plotted his new route. A few cycles later his imposing vehicle mode charged into a subway tunnel that connected with the transit network and headed for Alpha-021.

Iacon City-state, Sector Alpha-021 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8330 - 4994 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 5 October 2070, 11:34 HOURS

Sector Alpha-021 was as close to the Pit as Hot Rod ever intended on getting. On all sides, Autobot defenders engaged the Decepticon invasion forces in a sea of utter carnage that rivalled any battle of the last Great War. Automated defences had been activated to bolster the Autobot ranks, and antiaircraft turrets fired volleys of ordnance into the midst of the deadly agile Sweeps. The Autobot Elite Flying Corps tried their best to engage the superior Sweeps, but the Decepticon drones outmanoeuvred the less advanced Autobot aircraft at every turn. Behind the Sweeps, the Seekers fired on anything that moved on the perimeters of the battlefield, attempting to encircle the Autobots and cut off their supply lines. Amidst the smaller Cybertronian craft, waves of deadly Quintesson trident assault ships blasted Autobots out of existence wherever their weapons found targets. The ground forces also fought on amidst the growing wreckage and rubble. Where once there had been one of Central Iacon's primary transit hubs there was now a scarred crater-strewn wasteland of twisted metal pylons and roadways littered with the bodies of the injured and deactivated. Immense gestalts lumbered through the chaos, trying and failing to turn the battle in the favour of their own faction. Though Hot Rod had never fully adapted to the peace that had followed the Great War, the scale of this battle was beyond his comprehension. He had been given life after the Ark Mission, and the major battles of the war had been long past. Never again would he question Kup's stories about the height of the Great War. If it was like this, then he was surprised anyone had survived!

A short way off amidst the carnage, Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus fought side-by-side against the encroaching Decepticon ground forces. Despite their separate reformatting histories, the two Autobots' shared design lineage was still apparent. Ultra Magnus' white torso shared Optimus' translucent vehicle-mode windshields on either side of the chest above two pairs of headlamps. Silver smokestacks rose behind each of his powerful shoulders. His upper arms were as white as his upper body, though his forearms were dark-blue with the silver grilles of his truck engine radiator on the outside of each above red hands. His pelvis and thighs were silver, above dark-blue lower legs and feet. Wheels and silver fuel slugs on the outside of his calves mirrored Prime's own. His white cranial helmet shared many features with his predecessor's, silver antennae rising from the audio modules and a silver grille on his forehead at the front of the dark-blue crest than ran back across his cranial cap to the base of the helmet. His silver face was unmasked, and his face showed a strength and determination that Optimus' face-mask kept hidden. Back-to-back with Optimus, his twin dual-barrelled photon blaster-rifles smashed through the Decepticon forces while Prime held his own flank with twin atom-smasher rifles that could wreck a Decepticon with one shot.

Ultra Magnus turned slightly to his commander, keeping one optic on the enemy as he fired, and spoke. "Prime, this makes no sense! The Decepticons are losing warriors as fast as we are! At this rate, even if they do win they'll be decimated!"

"I know, Magnus," replied Prime, his optics betraying a sadness and concern behind his fierce determination. "Not even Megatron would throw his troops away to this mindless slaughter! And if I had a chance to think about it, I might be able to come up with some answers!" Even as he spoke, another Decepticon soldier was disembowelled by his close-range rifle blast. "This is futile!" he growled, angry at the waste of life. A few shots later, and a few more Decepticons added to the growing ranks of the fallen, Prime roared infuriated at the senselessness of it. "Ultra Magnus, we are wasting our time here!" he called. "We need to find out who is behind this pointless battle!"

"I'm with you, Prime," replied the younger field commander.

"Then follow me!" said Optimus. As he spoke, the missile launchers on his shoulders flipped up into firing position, and twin high-yield concussion missiles fired, blasting a path through the Decepticons. Before the enemy could recover, he transformed to truck form and accelerated deeper into the battlefield. Behind him, Ultra Magnus transformed into a white and dark-blue truck cab, subspace unfolding his own dark-blue and grey car transporter trailer behind him as he accelerated after Prime.

Ahead of the two Autobot trucks the battle grew more vicious, Decepticon gestalts smashing through everything in their way, be it Autobot or otherwise. "Where are we heading, Prime?" Magnus called over internal communications.

"The Elites have reported that the main Decepticon forces are to the north," replied Prime. "Their leader should be in that area!"

"And if he isn't?"

"Then none of us are going to escape this battlefield alive, Ultra Magnus!" Prime replied sombrely. "We need to end this at source or not at all!"

"Shall I call in reinforcements on our location?"

"Negative. The more Autobots head our way, the more likely that whoever is behind this moves to another location! We go in alone!"

Hot Rod watched Optimus and Ultra Magnus driving deeper into the battlefield even as his forearm-mounted photon cannons blasted at his own attackers. As they went, a part of him felt the urge to follow. They would be where the action was! But another part of him told him to stay and help his comrades hold the line. Stop the Decepticons spreading from the sub-sector. As he caught an attacking Sharkticon by the tail and tossed it aside, sending a few blasts from his photon cannons after it, he glanced over at Kup who was fighting nearby with the Autobot forces. As if he knew what Hot Rod was planning, the old veteran shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Prime doesn't need you, Hot Rod!" he shouted. "Stay put!"

"But-" Hot Rod didn't know what to follow his 'but' with, but he knew where he needed to be. He may be a young hothead, but Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime were going to need all the help they could get! Breaking eye contact with his old mentor, Hot Rod made a silent apology to the old Autobot and turned to follow Prime and Magnus. As he engaged his transformation systems and shifted to vehicle mode, he heard Kup shouting after him. "Hot Rod, get your tailpipe back here now!"

"Sorry, Kup," he replied as he accelerated after Prime into the midst of the Decepticon forces. "I need to do this!"

"Hot Rod!" Kup shouted after him. The old Autobot watched him disappear, before shaking his head slowly. "Watch yourself, kid," he muttered, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Iacon City-state, Sector Alpha-021 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8330 - 4995 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 5 October 2070, 11:42 HOURS

Mega Galvatron waded through the battlefield, knee-deep in deactivated Autobots and Decepticons. His twin forearm cannons smoked from recent firings, their translucent barrels still glowing with the heat of their blasts. His Decepticons fought all around him, annihilating Autobots even as they too were annihilated. The sounds of weapon fire, explosions and the cries of agony filled his audio modules like the sweet sound of success. He was victorious! No Autobot could stand before him. Dozens had tried, and all had fallen. When this battle was over, there would be no more talk of Megatron or Galvatron. His predecessors would be relegated to the history files of his great and unstoppable empire. With the Autobots broken, Scorponok and Shockwave would fall at his feet and beg for his mercy. And neither would be shown it! And then the eternal rule of Mega Galvatron would sweep across this miserable universe and he would become a god among insects. Even Unicron would be as nothing to his power!

A hail of energy blasts impacted on Mega Galvatron's armoured hide with all the effectiveness of bugs against a windshield. He turned to face his attacker, and laughed at the puny Autobot germ that dared to oppose him. Its insignificance was almost below his desire to destroy, but not quite enough. As the Autobot raised his weapon to fire again, Mega Galvatron lifted an arm, the cannon mounted thereon whining with power as it charged. When the energy beam finally erupted from it, it vaporised the Autobot in less than a klik, and reduced half a kilocubit of space beyond to vapour and slag, taking Autobots and Decepticons with it. Mega Galvatron turned unpitying to find his next would-be opponent, smashing a couple of Sharkticons from his path, their exo-plating fracturing and sloughing away under the force of his impact.

"You monster!" The powerful energy blast that accompanied the enraged booming shout impacted on Mega Galvatron's relatively delicate wing module, and barely scratched the armour. The Decepticon Supreme Overlord turned to face his attacker, to find a towering behemoth of an Autobot bearing down on him. The size and strength of the giant garnered a smile from Mega Galvatron: finally an opponent that might be worthy of destruction at his hands. Memories of his component halves identified the Autobot as sub-commander Fortress Maximus. The giant continued. "You have caused enough death and destruction for one day, Decepticon! It's time you made your goodbyes!"

"Fortress Maximus, I'm glad to see you again," Mega Galvatron grinned. "However, this encounter will differ from our last confrontation on Earth!"

"Last?" asked the Autobot, puzzled, before he pulled himself back to the task at hand. "I don't recall ever facing you, Decepticon, but you're right about it differing! This time you won't be coming back!"

"My sentiments exactly!" snarled Mega Galvatron, flipping into the air and somersaulting backward. As he came back down to land, his form twisted as he transformed into a dual-barrelled artillery cannon. The cannon landed on twin lateral tractor modules formed by the missile launchers on his wings, his bat-like wing tips folded up the sides into armoured shields. His legs had folded at the rear, his feet behind what had been his chest plate on his dorsal surface, running back to the twin blades of his knees at the back of the cannon above the rear stabiliser foot formed by the nose module that had been on his shoulders. At the front, the translucent red barrels of his cannons emerged from what had been his robot mode's shoulders. As he lifted the weapons to bear on Fortress Maximus, the whine of his charging weapons rose to a screaming howl of unbelievable energy.

The twin blasts hit Fortress Maximus in the chest, tearing through his outer armour like it was paper. The impact shock threw the Autobot from his feet, and he crashed heavily to the ground, pain searing through his circuitry from the wound in his chest. As he struggled to shut off his pain centres, he triggered his transformation systems and shifted into battle station mode. Even as he did so, Gasket and Grommet emerged from inside him, combining into the robot Cog. Fortress Maximus ordered him forward, while priming his battle station's weapons systems to fire.

Mega Galvatron saw the approaching drone robot through his targeting scanners. Its woeful inadequacy for its task made it unworthy of facing the full unleashed force of his cannon mode. With a thought, he underwent a second transformation, his wings flaring out and the rear stabiliser foot shifting into a sinuous tail as he assumed the form of a huge imposing dragon. As Cog paused to assess this new threat, Mega Galvatron leapt into the air, raising immense serrated talons as he soared towards the drone. He smashed into Cog at high speed, knocking the robot from its feet and trapping it beneath its powerful talons. With a bestial roar, Mega Galvatron opened the jaws of his triple-horned dragon head to reveal multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. Seconds later, his jaws closed down on Cog's head, and the drone stopped struggling.

Fortress Maximus felt the loss of Cog like the loss of a limb, and only his dampened pain centres spared him the sensation of his drone's final moments in the Decepticon's jaws. As his strategic centres processed the multiform nature of his opponent, calculating new tactics to defeat his opponent, his weapons systems opened fire. Mega Galvatron reared up in the midst of energy blasts, projectile impacts and mortar explosions, transforming as he did so into his robot mode. Even under Fortress Maximus' full onslaught, the Decepticon began to move towards him, weathering the storm of his arsenal as though it were nothing. "You will learn, Autobot," Mega Galvatron gloated, his voice strained under the barrage, "that there is no force in this universe that can stand against my might! I am ultimate power. Defeat is not an option - this universe will fall before me!"

"Arrogance is overconfidence, Decepticon!" he responded, his own voice straining from the energy drain of his weapons. "No enemy is unstoppable! Everything has a weakness."

"Gods have no weakness, Fortress Maximus!" Mega Galvatron laughed. "And can there be any doubt that I have achieved god-hood?"

"You are no god, Decepticon!" Fortress Maximus transformed back to robot mode before unleashing another barrage of fire at his opponent. "Delusional undoubtedly. Probably insane. But not a god!"

"You do not comprehend with whom you are dealing, you fool!" roared Mega Galvatron. "I was made to conquer everything in existence! An entire universe cowered at my feet, and so will this one! And so will you!" Mega Galvatron fired his cannons again, their energy blasts tearing through Fortress Maximus' left shoulder and sheering his arm from his body. As he fell back, warning signals flashing red in his visual field, he struggled to continue firing with his remaining weapons. The destruction of his right leg moments later triggered an involuntary shutdown of his armaments, and as he struggled to get up, Mega Galvatron stepped into view. "Do you understand now, Autobot?" he laughed. "Do you see the power that you foolishly thought to destroy? I am Mega Galvatron! I am unstoppable! Take that knowledge with you to the Matrix! Warn Primus that one day I will destroy even him!" He lifted his arms, his cannons howling with contained energy. "Warn him, Fortress Maximus, that I will accept no rivals to my god-hood! I am the one true-"

The energy blasts threw Mega Galvatron out of Fortress Maximus' field of vision. Sensing his imminent death fading, he collapsed back to the ground, struggling to avoid involuntary shutdown until he was certain that his insane opponent was destroyed. After a few seconds, an instantly familiar voice spoke to his right. "Fortress Maximus, can you hear me?" Moments later, Optimus Prime stepped into view, his optics filled with concern and the cannon doublet on his right forearm smoking. "Do you still function?"

"P-Prime," he struggled, his vocoder sputtering with all the circuit damage throughout his body. "Is he-"

"Not yet," replied Prime, his gaze moving in the direction Mega Galvatron had been thrown. "But he will be!" He turned back to Fortress Maximus. "Rest easy, old friend," he said. "There's been enough senseless slaughter for one hectobreem! It's time I finished it!" For a few moments, Fortress Maximus watched as Prime's weapons systems activated, his shoulder launchers flipping into position and his rifles emerging from subspace, and then empty darkness claimed him.

Optimus Prime turned from Fortress Maximus' fallen body towards the recovering form of Mega Galvatron. "This ends now, Decepticon!" he warned, targeting his full arsenal on the Decepticon Supreme Overlord. "This insanity ends here!" At his side, Ultra Magnus targeted his own photon rifles onto Mega Galvatron, his face filled with a determined resolve and justified anger that Prime's face-mask hid from sight.

Mega Galvatron regained his footing, his immense form bigger than either Autobot. "Insanity?" he spat, lubricant bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He dabbed it absently and looked at it, marvelling at his injury, before turning back to his attackers. "You call this insanity, Optimus Prime? And you, Ultra Magnus, do you believe me insane?"

"As crazy as a Denebrian gastroskunk, Decepticon," replied Ultra Magnus. "And in need of putting down. Terminally!"

"Oh, you Autobots and your single-minded determination to deny the truth!" laughed Mega Galvatron. "Are you incapable of understanding the glory that will be my conquest of the universes? Unable to see the genius in my optics?"

"I see only madness in your optics, Decepticon," replied Prime. "A dangerous madness that needs to be stopped here and now!"

Mega Galvatron smiled, his forearm cannons retracting to subspace as he opened his arms wide. "Then stop me, Optimus Prime," he crowed. "Save your people and the inhabitants of the universe! I dare you!"

"With pleasure!" replied Prime, pulling the triggers of his atom-smasher rifles and firing high-yield concussion missiles from his shoulders. At his side, Ultra Magnus also joined in the assault.

Mega Galvatron stumbled slightly under the assault, the tips of his cranial horns fracturing and breaking away along with some other nonessential extremities, but drawing on every ounce of his power he stepped forward, approaching his attackers as he had Fortress Maximus. "You see, Prime? Magnus?" he gloated. "I am more powerful than any mere Transformer could ever hope to be! I am unstoppable!"

"So was Unicron, Decepticon!" replied Prime, opening energon waveguides in his palms to increase the power of his rifles. Again Mega Galvatron faltered, before resuming his steady approach through their bombardment. "Unicron was nothing!" Mega Galvatron smiled. "A fool who didn't see the true nature of power!… Oh, annihilation has its own rewards, yes, but domination - conquest - these are the preserves of those who are truly powerful!"

"Of course it would be a Decepticon spouting that kind of rubbish!" grunted Ultra Magnus in disgust.

"Rubbish? I think not Ultra Magnus. Conquest is the right of superior beings. The Decepticons were the superior species in this universe. Now, it is I, Mega Galvatron, who am the pinnacle of all creation! And so all creation will fall before me!" Even as he spoke, his towering mechanical form edged inexorably closer, his arms at his sides and his chest and head completely unshielded from Prime and Magnus' barrage, and virtually unaffected.

As warning lights began to flash in Ultra Magnus' visual field at the immense energy drain of his almost continuous assault on the insane Decepticon leader, Mega Galvatron reached out a powerful hand and took hold of the barrels of one of his rifles. At this range, the sheer size of the Decepticon was revealed in all its horror. He towered over both Magnus and Prime, and coupled with his bulk he was a terrifying sight. With barely any effort, Mega Galvatron tore the weapon from Magnus' hand and crushed it effortlessly. Even as he did so, his other hand slammed into Magnus' wrist servos, triggering a cascade of failures in his hand unit that resulted in him dropping his remaining rifle. To his side, Prime's barrage had ceased, the Autobot commander unwilling to sacrifice his field commander. "Now you see, don't you Magnus?" chuckled the Decepticon, his hands deflecting the Autobot's defensive blows before his right hand closed over Magnus' face. "Do you see the sheer pointlessness of your stubborn resistance? Do you recognise that I am unstoppable?" Ultra Magnus struggled to escape the Decepticon's grip, feeling the pressure growing on his facial substructure as the thinner exo-plating began to tear, but to no avail. Disarmed and unable to free himself, he could practically feel the Matrix beckoning to him.

"Drop him, Decepticon!" Optimus Prime's voice held such a commanding tone that for a moment even Mega Galvatron turned his attention to him. Moments later, the overlord's face split into a gloating smile. "Or what, Optimus Prime?" he spat, his voice practically indistinguishable from Megatron's gravely tones. "Whatever you do, Ultra Magnus dies right here and right now!" The voice returned to the more velvety tones of Mega Galvatron as he continued. "Do you see the futility of your continued existence? Accept the oblivion I bring and it will be swift!"

"You underestimate me, Decepticon!" replied Prime, his weapons zeroing in on Mega Galvatron's imposing form. "And you underestimate the Autobots. They would all willingly lay down their lives if it meant putting an end to your madness before it destroys us all!" His optics narrowed as his fingers moved to the triggers of his rifles. "And I know for a fact that Ultra Magnus would want me to shoot you, regardless of the danger to him!"

"But the question is are you willing to sacrifice him?" smiled the Decepticon. "I know you, Optimus Prime. In two lifetimes in two universes, and in both your belief in the sanctity of life has been your downfall repeatedly!"

"Well, not this time," Optimus replied, knowing the truth in his opponent's words even as he denied it. "Drop him or I fire!" For a few moments, their optics met, and two lifetimes of Megatron looked out from the Decepticon Supreme Overlord's visual sensors at his greatest enemy. For brief moments, Mega Galvatron's fractured mind struggled for a response, before the Megatron fragment won out.

"As the fleshlings say," he snarled, tossing Ultra Magnus aside, "why waste my time with the monkey when I can have the organ grinder?" With a roar, he launched himself at Optimus Prime, deflecting the Autobot commander's opening barrage as though it were a swarm of flies. Metal crashed against metal as his immense form tackled Optimus to the floor, pinning the him down. "And there isn't a part of me that won't enjoy this, Optimus Prime!" he gloated as the tips of his clawed fingers extended into razor-sharp serrated blades. "Finally you will die, Optimus Prime!"

The missile barrage threw him from Optimus Prime's body, hitting the buckled cratered surface with a shriek of rending metal. "My resistance isn't so pointless now, is it?" Ultra Magnus allowed himself a smile as he strode towards the Decepticon, his robot mode upgraded to his trailer-combined battle mode. He was slightly taller than Mega Galvatron, his white chest and shoulders formed by the cabin of his truck mode, the forearms of his smaller robot mode folded into the bow radiator of the truck in his lower chest. The tops of his arms were dark-blue, each mounting a dual missile launcher on the outside and a rocket launcher above. Twin smoking multiple-warhead missile batteries were retracting back behind Autobrands in the front as he deactivated them. His elbows were white above red forearms, each forearm embedded with yet another missile battery above his powerful white hands. His abdomen was red above a white pelvis and red thighs. Dark-blue panels in his lower back and thighs were formed by the legs of his smaller robot mode, partially retracted wheels in the back of each thigh. His lower-legs were dark-blue, white panels in the shins formed by the cargo ramp of his trailer, and with the trailer's wheels retracted under the outside of each foot. The backs of his lower legs were grey, formed by part of his trailer's car deck, while the other grey car deck segments formed wing-shields on the back of his shoulders. His dark-blue cranial helmet was bulkier, with silver antennae and a central red crest that ran back from a silver forehead grille. A black tactical visor covered the optics of his silver face, the expression on which was currently a combination of determination and anger. "Get up, Decepticon!" he shouted. "Get up so I can knock you back down all the way to the Pit!"

"Did you think," said Mega Galvatron as he climbed to his hands and knees, his voice a strained half-grunt half-growl of rage, "that your pitiful super mode could stop me, Ultra Magnus?" He looked up at Magnus, revealing blistered and melted exo-plating on the left side of his face, his mouth twisting into a smile. "You didn't come close!" He lifted a hand, subspace disgorging a sabre into his grasp, the red blade a glowing shaft of raw crystalline energon. With a roar, he leapt to his feet and charged Magnus.

"I haven't even started!" replied Magnus, leaping back, his wing-shields shifting into a flight configuration that carried him in a gentle glide to the ground several decacubits away. As he landed, the wing-shields flared out from his shoulders as the batteries behind his Autobrands and his forearms deployed for firing. A volley of heat-seeking missiles from his upper batteries and concussion missiles from his forearms launched towards Mega Galvatron, exploding all around the charging Decepticon. As the dust cleared, the proton missile doublets on his shoulders fired, impacting on Mega Galvatron's body and managing to scratch his outer armour. His roar echoing through the air, the Decepticon launched himself at Ultra Magnus, his fists smashing into the Autobot's chest and shattering the translucent windshields therein with the force. Ultra Magnus staggered back, his hands already grabbing Mega Galvatron and using his own momentum to throw him over his head.

Mega Galvatron twisted in mid-air as Ultra Magnus turned to track his trajectory, and landed facing the Autobot field commander. "There was a time, Ultra Magnus, when I thought you might be a threat to equal Optimus Prime," he said, summoning his forearm cannons. "But I was wrong. And now even Optimus Prime is no threat! What hope do you have?"

"You can gloat all you want, Decepticon," Magnus replied. "But the humans have a saying that goes a little something like this: Don't count your chickens before they've hatched!"

"Do they?" replied Mega Galvatron, grinning madly. "How nice for them. I'll remember to have Cyclonus wipe out their insignificant species and their sayings when I'm through with you Cybertronians!" His cannons began to whine as they charged. "Just to show them that a skill for counting pre-hatched avians is not something I deem of worth to my future empire!" His cannons fired, the twin eruptions of charged particles slicing through the Cybertronian atmosphere with enough energy to split the molecules in the air. Magnus dove for cover, one of the blasts sheering the tip off one wing-shield but otherwise missing his primary systems.

As he fell, he transformed to vehicle mode and accelerated towards Mega Galvatron, ploughing into the Decepticon and ramming him to the floor. Even as his opponent fell, he transformed back to his super mode and pinned Mega Galvatron's arms out to his sides. "It's time I put you down for good, Decepticon," he stated emotionlessly, his proton missile doublets targeting Mega Galvatron's head at close range. "For the good of every living creature in this universe!"

"You don't have the power, Autobot!" Mega Galvatron shouted, oil on his lips. With a force Ultra Magnus could barely register, he tore his arm from his grip and smashed his fist into his head, toppling Ultra Magnus from him. Within kliks he was on his feet and one of his cannons was targeted on Ultra Magnus' head, the whine of charging power capacitors cutting through the air.

"No!" Optimus Prime hit Mega Galvatron in the side, tackling both of them to the ground and sending the Decepticon's cannon blast up into the sky in a stream of plasma that was visible across the battlefield. Mega Galvatron managed to throw him off and rolled to his feet, turning to face Prime as he regained his own footing. "What is it with you Autobot leaders and your super modes?" he snarled at Prime.

Prime towered over Mega Galvatron in super mode. His upper torso was formed by the cab of Prime's truck mode, the cab roof forming his chest and the bonnet with its exposed silver engine block composing the upper abdomen. Prime's smokestack doublets flanked his chest, now retaining their function as cannons. Prime's shoulders were dark-blue, formed by his robot pelvis, his arms formed by his smaller robot's legs with silver upper arms, red elbows, dark-blue forearms and red hands. Wheels were partially retracted on the back of each forearm, and silver fuel tanks on each elbow. His atom-smasher cannons were mounted on each forearm, and each hand clutched a solar-flare blaster rifle. His lower abdomen was gold above a silver pelvis and thighs. His knees were red above dark-blue lower legs and feet. The trailer's three wheels were partially retracted on the outside of each foot. The grey sides of the trailer formed armour panels on the outsides and back of his lower legs and grey wing-shields at his shoulders. A heavy missile launcher sat on each shoulder, and a double-barrelled cannon on the outside of each calf. His dark-blue cranial helmet merged with the armour over his nose, lower face and chin, where a silver respirator covered his mouth. There was a silver grille on his forehead, flanked by smaller grilles at his temples, and silver laser cannon doublets formed his lateral antennae. His golden optics shone out above his face-mask with a determination that managed to shake even Mega Galvatron's insane confidence.

"Now I end this, Decepticon!" Prime stated bluntly, his voice filled with power and authority. "We've toyed with one another for long enough!"

"I haven't even started!" snarled the Supreme Overlord, his insanity driving away even the potential for doubt. "You haven't begun to feel my power!" Without another word, he launched himself at Optimus, his claws extending and his face pulled into a rictus grin. With a clash of metal, the two giants smashed to the ground in a blur of thrashing limbs and body parts.

Hot Rod's sleek racer mode skidded to a halt on the cratered edge of a partially collapsed flyway that arced over the battlefield. Below him, Mega Galvatron and Optimus Prime were engaged in a ferocious battle, exchanging blows that would cripple a lesser Transformer between energy blasts and missile volleys that reduced their surroundings to a homogenous rubble. As he came to a halt, tyres shrieking on the battered metal road surface, he engaged his transformation systems and reverted to robot mode. His optics scanned the air for potential attackers before returning to the battle below where the Autobot and Decepticon leaders attacked with every ounce of their impressive strengths. As he witnessed firsthand the power of the Decepticon leader, he began to think that Kup may have been right. What help could he offer here? His optics drifted to Ultra Magnus who was struggling to his feet, his outer armour battered and his exo-plating cracked from the intensity of Mega Galvatron's attack. If one of the Autobots' greatest warriors had been tossed aside so easily, what hope did an average soldier like Hot Rod have? "You've done it again, Hot Rod!" he muttered to himself. "Here's another one to chalk up to reckless stupidity!"

Below, Mega Galvatron had fought his way through Prime's barrage and lifted the taller Autobot leader's super mode above his head, howling his victory like a mad dog to the firmament. Before Prime could respond, the overlord had thrown him aside, seeing him smash heavily into Ultra Magnus, knocking them both to the ground. "I am all powerful!" he roared. "My power cannot be overcome! All who try to stand against me shall fall! Even the Autobots' greatest warriors!" His lips curled into a vicious grin of victory as he targeted his forearm cannons on the fallen Autobots. "Prepare to meet your maker!" The whine of charging capacitors cut the air, growing in intensity until even the sound of the surrounding battlefield dwindled to a background white noise.

Twin blasts erupted from his particle-accelerator cannons and cut through the air with more intensity than any of his previous assaults, the air crackling with energy as the raw electrochemical force of the weapons stripped the surrounding air molecules to a cloud of charged plasma. Ultra Magnus struggled to pull Optimus Prime out of their path but was too late. Charged plasma hit them both, tearing through armour and internal systems with circuit-searing agonising force. Magnus slumped, his systems entering involuntary stasis lock as internal repair mechanisms struggled to prevent cascade failure of his life support centres. Prime struggled to remain online, managing to place himself between Mega Galvatron and Ultra Magnus before his primary motor systems shorted out. Energy discharges crackled across internal circuits and arced across his outer hull from rupture energon waveguides. Only a sheer force of will managed to prevent him shutting down, and he managed to lift his head to face his opponent, his optics filled with anger.

Mega Galvatron smiled. "So, you still function Optimus Prime," he gloated. "You're more powerful than I gave you credit for."

"P-powerful enough!" Prime's vocoder sputtered as backup circuits shorted and died. "I'm n-not done yet-t-t!"

"I beg to differ," the overlord replied. "I have found your limit, Optimus Prime, and it is nothing to my power!"

"You'll h-havvv t-t-to d-do bet-ter than you have b-b-been!" Prime struggled to reply, his motor circuitry struggling to re-route through whatever backups were still functioning. His body spasmed pitifully as he struggled to regain conscious control over his own body.

"I haven't even started to tap my resources, Optimus Prime!" Mega Galvatron drew himself to his full height as he spoke, the fire in his eyes and behind his abdominal panels growing in intensity. "Now you will witness the full power of Mega Galvatron!" His forearm cannons withdrew to subspace as he lowered his arms to his sides, his wings flaring out from his shoulders. He laughed as internal circuitry made connections to his subspace and warp systems they had never fully engaged before. Hyperspace and subspace connected him to a power beyond mortal comprehension as circuits that had resided within Megatron initiated and unfolded into patterns improved and enhanced by his fusion with Galvatron's Unicronian technology. "Behold my divinity!"

On the flyway, Hot Rod was the first to detect the rippling of the air around the Decepticon's body. As his sensors detected a power spike that overloaded them moments later, Mega Galvatron seemed to warp and distort in the ripples of the air around him as though huge variable lenses were forming around his body. For several kliks that seemed to stretch out to infinity, the power source within Mega Galvatron grew and the distortions around him expanded. The ground around the overlord's feet seemed to warp and sink, splintering and cracking as though an immense mass was bearing down upon it. Hot Rod's optics grew wide as the buckled surface around the Decepticon leader began to warp and pull in towards him, signalling the presence of a gravity well of growing intensity.

Optimus Prime watched as Cybertron's surface seemed to tear itself apart and close around Mega Galvatron's grossly distorted form. The inky black dome in the Decepticon's chest seemed to be expanding, the blackness of its depths appearing to retreat to an empty infinity of darkness that sucked in all light that struck it. The dome itself seemed to invert and fall into the growing well, drawing the atmosphere around him into a howling funnel of matter that glowed white-hot as it spiralled into depths that went beyond Mega Galvatron's internal structures. There was a dull rumble that seemed to propagate itself through Cybertron's depths as much as the air. The distortions around the Decepticon continued to grow in size and power, gravitational and magnetic stresses tearing through everything they touched. Power seemed to leach from the overlord's joints, glowing red as the sheer power growing inside him bleached his optics and abdominal panels to a blinding white light. "Do you now deny my god-hood?" he crowed, his voice deep, dark, reverberating and echoing through the space-time distortions that grew around him. "There is no power in the universe that can match me! I am the beginning and the end, the giver of life and the bringer of death, and all shall bow to me!"

Prime watched as the gravitational distortions began to flow into the empty blackness that opened through Mega Galvatron's chest, being compressed and collapsed in on itself into a force blast that would destroy everything in its path for kilocubits around. Only once had he seen this power unleashed by his old nemesis, Megatron, and had hoped never to witness it again. Only the self-serving quick-thinking of the Decepticon Ratbat had saved Cybertron from certain destruction. On this occasion he had no hope that the gravitational energy would be dissipated without annihilating everything it touched. So this was the storm that the Last Autobot had warned him of moments before the ancient's destruction. It would lay waste to Cybertron, and then the universe would be destroyed by this madmech in his quest for deification. He watched helpless, unable to make even a digit on his hand respond to his desperate motor commands. So this is how it ends, he mused. Not in the fires of Unicron, but in the death-grip of unrestrained gravity. Prime saw the last moments of Mega Galvatron's power build-up, before a gravitomagnetic shock-wave erupted from the vortex in the Decepticon's chest, eradicating everything in its path.

Hot Rod watched as Mega Galvatron's gravitomagnetic emitter assembly reached full power, space-time distortions swirling around the opening in his chest before compressing down into the gravity well within the emitter ready to unleash the destructive force of their gravitomagnetic flux. Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus would be the first fatalities of the force pulse, followed by more innocent lives in the adjacent sectors of Iacon, both in the upper sunlit levels and in the dim under-city that would be torn open with equal effortlessness. Nothing in its path would survive, and much as he wanted to try, nothing he could do would alter that fact. Mega Galvatron had sealed the fates of millions the instant he had activated the emitter, and Hot Rod shared Optimus Prime's sense of helplessness as he waited for it to come. The kliks passed, one drawing sluggishly into the next as the gravitational distortions surrounding the Decepticon dilated time around him. And yet Hot Rod felt he had to do something, however futile it might be!

Shifting into vehicle mode, Hot Rod took advantage of the time dilation around Mega Galvatron to draw back from the edge, tyres shrieking as he skidded around and accelerated back up the flyway arc. As the roadway gave way to empty space, the air rushing by his audio sensors as he plummeted towards the Decepticon leader, his rear booster rockets fired, adjusting his trajectory directly at the Supreme Overlord. Shouting his defiance at the top of his vocoder, he dropped through the air on what he knew was a suicide mission. He could practically hear Kup telling him he was being 'a turbo-revving young punk' as certain death loomed in his forward optic clusters. And in that instant, he welcomed destruction if it could deflect the emitter's shock-wave just a few degrees upward and save everyone in Iacon. "Yahoo!" he howled, his voice filled with a reckless exhilaration. "Heads up Decepti-creep! Hot Rod's here to save the day!"

At the last moment he transformed to robot mode, smashing into Mega Galvatron's torso at high speed. Gravitational distortions tore at his body, shearing entire sheets of exo-plating from the underlying substructure, but even as his body was torn apart he felt the Decepticon move, stumbling back under the force of the unexpected impact. Moments later, the emitter unleashed its energy, and Hot Rod was flung up into the air even as his body was torn to pieces. As deactivation beckoned, Hot Rod felt a surge of relief that he had done it. Cybertron and its inhabitants were safe!

"Hot Rod!" Optimus Prime's shout cut the air with a deep tone of horror and despondency as he watched the young cavalier overwhelmed in the energies of Mega Galvatron's gravitomagnetic shock-wave that passed overhead, missing Iacon and its inhabitants as it expanded out into space, its force dissipating with distance. Nothing could have survived that blast. Even attempting it was suicide, and Prime had no doubt that Hot Rod had known that fact as well as anyone. "You did well, Hot Rod," he sighed, his head lolling forward as the last of his energy dwindled. "May the peace of the Matrix await you."

The pain had faded. Where for a few brief seconds it had torn through every fibre of his being, it was now gone. All the pain and doubt had been washed away. So this was death, he mused. It was not what he had expected. And he was not alone. "Awaken, child, your time has come!" The myriad voices filled him with a sense of being at home. It was as if everything he had done in life had been for this one moment. It was a shame that purpose had waited until he was dead to find him! "Dead, child? The Matrix does not beckon you to death. We beckon you to life!" The words did not bring the confusion they would have. The voices filled him with their wisdom and knowledge. He felt their power coursing through his spark, flowing outward into his… body? "Arise, child. Your time has come. Cybertron requires a Guardian in these dark times. Darkness and chaos gather. Now is the time for you to awaken!"

Optimus Prime felt a familiar power growing around him. Even in his weakened state, it gave him strength. Creation Matrix filled the area, its energies coalescing somewhere above him. He felt his life-force grow stronger, sustaining him despite his injuries, and he lifted his head. The power of Creation Matrix hung in space overhead, its pure unsullied essence bathing all in its range with life and vitality. It swirled overhead, its blue and green energies coalescing within the dissipating power of Mega Galvatron's weapon blast and surrounding within them a growing form. Its energies coursed over and through the being they cradled, feeding it with its life-giving energies until the being moved and the power swirled into its open chest cavity forming a glowing blue orb.

"Hot Rod?" Even as Optimus Prime said the name, he knew the being before him was not the young hothead cavalier any more. He had met this Autobot before over a vorn previous. Optimus heard the voices of Creation Matrix speak inside his mind even as its orb was sealed within its bearer's chest. "Arise, Rodimus Prime!"

Rodimus Prime's optics glowed a brilliant azure blue as they came online. His body was that of Hot Rod's, but bigger and stronger, changed and reshaped by Creation Matrix into a fitting Guardian of Cybertron. Blue lights glowed on either side of the red cowl at his collar above his flame-detailed orange breastplate. Blue vehicle mode headlamps glowed in his red mid-abdomen. Struts rose from the top of his red arms with air intake vents in the front and partially retracted wheels behind his shoulders. Silver cannon triplets were mounted on his forearms above orange wrist sockets with black hands. His lower abdomen was black above his red pelvis. His thighs and knees were orange above red lower legs with twin wheels partially retracted on the outside of each calf and black feet. Gold wing-shields rose from his shoulders on either side of a tinted vehicle canopy in his upper back. His red cranial helmet was similar to Hot Rod's, though with blue lights in the cheek struts and at the front of the crest that ran back from his forehead. His silver face was still that of Hot Rod's, but older and more mature in appearance.

Mega Galvatron looked up at the robot who hovered overhead and his red optics flashed scarlet, his face twisting into a snarl of utter hatred as the Galvatron part of his mind recognised the Autobot leader who had defied him even in death. "Rodimus Prime!" he howled. "But you're dead! I killed you!"

Rodimus' blue optics turned to him, and he smiled. "This is the end of the road, Decepticon!" he warned, pointing at Mega Galvatron. Without another word, he launched himself at the Decepticon Supreme Overlord. His fist connected with the Decepticon's face at full force, whipping Mega Galvatron's head back and shattering what remained of his facial exo-plating. The overlord stumbled back, the Galvatron part of him still failing to come to terms with the presence of his long-dead nemesis. Rodimus Prime capitalised on his opponent's distraction, his fists smashing into his armour again and again, buckling exo-plating and cracking armour. Mega Galvatron continued to fall back, unable to respond to the attacks of a mechanism he had killed with his own hands. Rodimus spoke. "You have done enough damage for one day, Decepticon!" He grabbed his opponent under the arms and lifted him over his head. "Now get going!" Drawing on all the power the Matrix was flooding into his body, Rodimus Prime threw his adversary up into the air. Moments later, blasts of fusion plasma shot after him from Rodimus' forearm triplets.

Mega Galvatron struggled to rest control of his fractured mind from the Galvatron portion as he began to plummet back to the ground, his armour scorched by Rodimus' weapon fire. With a roar of defiance, he regained unified control of himself. He engaged his transformation systems, his body folding into yet another of his alternate modes. The advanced black aerospace fighter engaged silver engine nacelles under the bat-like wings at the rear of its fuselage, the bifurcated red cockpit at the tip of its elongated nose module turning in the direction of Polyhex. With a roar of thrusters, he accelerated away from the battlefield, relaying the order to retreat to his senior officers. A few kliks later, he engaged warp engines and disappeared into a blur of spatial distortions that led into hyperspace, leaving his troops to make their own escape.

Rodimus Prime watched the Decepticon leader vanish from sensors before turning to Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus. He crouched by Optimus and spoke. "Optimus, sir, are you going to be okay?"

"A few days in the repair bay and I'll be fully functional," replied Optimus, sensing the energy of Creation Matrix that his young protégé was feeding into his damaged systems. "Ultra Magnus needs urgent help," he told Rodimus. "He took the full force of one of Mega Galvatron's cannons."

"It's okay, sir," replied Rodimus. "The Matrix should keep him stable until medical teams arrive." As he spoke, he rested his hands onto Ultra Magnus' chest and felt the energy of Creation Matrix channelling through him and into the crippled field commander. As he allowed the Matrix to do its work unhindered, he turned to Optimus. "Sir, the Decepticon leader. Where did he come from?"

"I have my suspicions," replied Optimus. "And if I'm right about this 'Mega Galvatron' then we're all in trouble. Your existence attests to the danger he represents."

"Me?"

"You are Rodimus Prime, Guardian of Cybertron," replied Optimus. "I met another version of you from a parallel timeline a vorn ago." He smiled, his optics shining a bright gold. "You see, Hot Rod? There was a destiny awaiting you. All you had to do was wait for it to arrive."

"I know," replied Rodimus, touching a hand to his chest. "The Creation Matrix-"

"Has returned to the place it was intended to be," Optimus told him. "You are meant to carry it. It should have passed to you almost a vorn ago, but I believe Galvatron's time travel disrupted the timeline."

"But Optimus, surely you should bear the Matrix…"

"No, Rodimus. The Matrix chooses its bearer, the bearer does not choose the Matrix. It resides where it is supposed to reside."

"Then may I, as Rodimus Prime, swear my loyalty to your command, Optimus Prime? I could never match your skills."

"Never say never," Optimus smiled. "One day you will be called upon to lead the Autobots. I can't live forever." Rodimus' blue optics met Optimus' warm golden gaze. Optimus had so much trust in him. He supposed that he would need to have the same trust in himself in return. He was Guardian of Cybertron, and it was a task that he had been built for. He wouldn't fail.

He couldn't! 


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Dealing with the Devil

Cybertron, Polyhex City-state, Sector Gamma-107 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 366 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 15:13 HOURS

Starscream's mood was as dark as the scorch marks on his battered armour. As he flew towards the Rookery flanked by an equally battered Thundercracker and Skywarp, and followed by a ragtag handful of battered Seekers, to say he was in a bad mood was a gross underestimate. His anger was like a black mass that writhed in his core, waiting impatiently to be vented. The source was his great leader Mega Galvatron: the orchestrator of one of the worst defeats in Decepticon military history. After the so-called Supreme Overlord had fled in terror from a lone Autobot warrior, the Decepticon attack fleet had been routed by their emboldened enemies. It had taken Starscream and the few Seekers with him over a solar period to reach the defended borders of Polyhex, harried by the Autobot Elite Flying Corps all the way. He could practically see the looks on the faces of the Autobot flyers as they made jokes at his expense back in their Spire, and that embarrassment only infuriated him more!

He was even starting to wish for the bad old days of Megatron and Shockwave to return! Together they had united a scattered and decimated army and conquered entire sectors of the Galaxy. This Mega Galvatron was a strategic imbecile by comparison! And to think he was the self-proclaimed white hope of the Decepticon Empire! Even Blot would have had the sense to avoid the shameful defeat to which he had just led his troops. The assault on Iacon had been an obvious debacle before it had left the planning stages!

The activation of his internal transceiver assembly drew Starscream's attention back to the present moment. Kliks later, Huntress's low feminine tones emerged from the background static. "Commander Starscream, I'm glad you've made it back. When we heard about Iacon we-"

"Just open the hangar!" he snapped, venting a little bit of his ire on the unfortunate Seeker. "Don't ever mention that catastrophe!" He paused to calm his temper, waiting to find a more suitable release later. Preferably Mega Galvatron himself! "Did our glorious Supreme Overlord get back in one piece?"

"Yes, commander," she replied as the hangar slid open. "He returned yesterday at zenith. We detected his exit from warp over Darkmount, though the fortress has remained silent since."

"Inform Concussion I want a full report on events during my absence," he ordered as he swooped into the hangar and transformed. "You and he will report to my office within the breem!"

"Yes, commander."

As his communications device deactivated, he turned to his battered troops. His optics tracked along the row of mismatched Seekers, from the tall gunmetal and black bombardier Air-strike, past the three cone-heads - Ramjet, Dirge and Thrust - to Thundercracker and Skywarp, to the young silver and blue warrior Overshot, and finally the diminutive black femme reconnaissance unit called Raven. A part of him still fumed at the indignities of his last 253 breems, but he recognised the opportunity to solidify the loyalty of his troops Mega Galvatron's defeat represented. Cyclonus had stolen his honour, but he could begin to reclaim it with these eight loyal and proven soldiers. "This last solar period has proven your worth as Seekers," he addressed them with a tone of respect and admiration. "None of you should ever doubt that you were meant to be among the Decepticon elite. We will easily reclaim our superiority over those pathetic Sweeps with troops like you. Never forget that you are Seekers. The best the Decepticon army has to offer."

"Yes, sir," came their group response, a tone of pride and mutual respect in their collective voice. He smiled to himself. A few more disastrous battles for Mega Galvatron and his Seekers would again be solidified into his personal strike force. And then all the shame heaped upon him would be repaid in full! Turning to Thundercracker with a pleased smile he ordered his lieutenant to follow, and the two left the hangar.

Less than a breem later, Starscream sat behind the obsidian desk in his private office, a grand room off his personal briefing room at the core of the Rookery. Data-pads littered the surface of the desk, their display surfaces inactive. Like the rest of Starscream's office complex, the furnishings of the room coupled military functionality with his own personal sense of style and power. The desk typified this, its crystalline upper surface the spoils of one of his greatest off-world victories. Other trophies to himself and the Seekers decorated the office, creating a suitable air of power, authority and glory to intimidate anyone who came before him in this vaulted oversized chamber.

Thundercracker stood behind Starscream, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Across the desk from the two commanders stood a further two Seekers. The first was the proud white and gold form of Concussion, who even in these surroundings could barely repress the arrogant haughtiness in his face. The second was a fairly tall femme Seeker, her body held rigid and to attention in the presence of her senior officer. She was coloured primarily in a gently burnished pale-gold that glowed faintly under the office's lighting. Her upper torso was silver around the pale-gold of her fighter-mode nose module, and the wings emerging from her shoulders were edged with purple and silver and adorned with her Decepticon insignia. The pale-grey face between the silver audio grilles of her cranial helmet expressed a quiet dignity and respect as she waited for her commander to speak.

Starscream looked up from the data-pad in his hands that Concussion had handed him upon entering the office. His optics were a calm golden-yellow, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his internal anger. "Sixty percent?" he asked, his voice remaining calm despite the tick of his cheek servos. "The strategic genius of our glorious leader has lost me sixty percent of the Seekers who attacked Iacon with him?"

"So far, commander Starscream," replied Concussion, managing to keep his tone neutral and sufficiently unpretentious to avoid unleashing his commander's anger. Though he blamed the losses as much on Starscream's stupidity as Mega Galvatron's, even he knew when to keep his vocoder inactive. Almost. "Most of the squadrons you took to Iacon have come back decimated. It will take a major reorganisation of the Seeker ranks to compensate. As well as a recruiting drive to replace the losses if we even hope to bring our numbers back up to what they were."

"I am well aware of that fact, Concussion," Starscream replied bitterly, his optics flashing white. "I sincerely hope that is not recrimination I detect in your tone, soldier!"

"Concussion meant no disrespect, I'm sure," said the femme in a low voice, looking daggers at the white and gold mech beside her. "He is simply struggling to contain his anger at our high commander's tactical blunder."

"Blunder, Huntress?" asked Starscream. "A blunder would be losing a few squadrons against unexpectedly high resistance." His tone turned sour. "Losing six wings in an attack that was a lost hope from the start is a little more than just a blunder! Iacon was a fool's errand, and if anyone had had the power to stand up to the lunatic that now leads us it could have been avoided!" He looked from her to his desk, his optics narrowing with his anger. "The Autobot Elites are laughing at us!" he snarled. "Mocking how far we Seekers have fallen since Mega Galvatron took power! We cannot sit by and allow ourselves to go from the scourge of Cybertronian airspace to a laughing stock!" He looked back up at the two of them. "I will not accept that dishonour. I cannot accept it!"

"What do you intend to do?" asked Huntress.

"I intend to reclaim what has been taken from us," he replied. "And I intend to grind Mega Galvatron's head beneath my foot. He may be powerful, but there are ways and means to receive greater power. And I will find them!" He steepled his fingers on his desk in front of him, a smile playing across his lips. "Huntress, I'm making you responsible for Rookery security on a permanent basis."

"But I'm just a tracker, sir," she replied.

"And a good one," he told her. "But you're also intelligent and skilled, and I need someone who I can trust to do the job."

"Thank you, sir."

"And as for you, Concussion," Starscream smiled. "You get a little of what you've always wanted. Power. I'm making you my second officer, answerable only to Thundercracker and myself. I trust you can rein in your pomposity long enough to not alienate your underlings?"

"Of course, sir," he responded, unable to smother the broad smirk that crossed his face.

"Then you will be responsible for maintaining our monitor over Polyhex security, Concussion," said Starscream. "You and Huntress will work together to ensure that the Rookery remains secure while Thundercracker and I deal with more pressing concerns."

"Yes, sir," they replied, neither sounding too happy to be sharing responsibility with the other.

"Excellent," Starscream smiled, perfectly aware of their disdain for each other, and not particularly bothered by the fact. He trusted Huntress to keep Concussion on a short leash, even if he was nominally her superior officer. In truth, it was the perfect arrangement: he was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner! "You are dismissed," he told them, waving a hand for them to leave.

As the doors closed behind them, Thundercracker rounded the desk to look at Starscream. "So, what is it that we're meant to be doing?" he asked. Starscream picked up one of the discarded data-pads that had gathered on his desk during the planning period of the assault on Iacon and handed it to his deputy. "It's from Technoshear," he explained as Thundercracker read the pad. "Her team have finally come up with the goods from Soundwave's memory buffers. I received this just before we departed to Iacon."

"I wondered why you were in a particularly bad mood when we left," smirked Thundercracker.

"Yes," Starscream replied with a half-shrug. "Having to delay this moment for a potential suicide mission was rather irritating." He took the pad back from his lieutenant and dropped it back among the others on his desk. "But now I am mere breems away from discovering the secrets of the mysterious Oblivion." He stood up and headed for the door. "Follow me, Thundercracker," he chuckled. "My destiny awaits!"

The Rookery Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 379 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 17:01 HOURS

The Rookery's technical centre was in the bowels of the multi-tower not more than a few levels above the connecting points with the sky-spires on which the Rookery sat and not far below the medical centre. The centre was a warren of large bays indistinguishable from the storage holds that formed the rest of the Rookery's habitable space at these levels, and connected to the many shuttle and cargo bays below the outpost's hangars. The Rookery's technical staff were a ragtag assortment of standard Decepticon technician models, captured and reprogrammed civilians, and a number of Seeker-designed senior technicians and specialists. Most of the Rookery's technical jobs were carried out by the standard technicians and civilian-model slaves, but the more complicated and covert tasks were worked on exclusively by the Seeker-designed staff. Like the lightly built Seeker medical staff, the Seeker technicians were considered to be more sympathetic to their larger warrior-model cousins than other Decepticon models would be, and hence more trustworthy. Within reason…

Technoshear was a Seeker-model technician, specialising in data decryption and leading a small team of computer and neuro-circuitry specialists under the direct command of Starscream. The diminutive turquoise femme was as loyal to Starscream as any of his soldiers were, and he begrudgingly accepted her usefulness to him. As he entered her tech-bay followed by Thundercracker - both repaired of their injuries since leaving Starscream's office - she looked over to him and came to attention. "Commander on deck!" she called to her team. The three Seeker-model technicians and the single warrior-model Seeker that constituted her team immediately stopped what they were doing and came to attention. Starscream barely noticed as he approached Technoshear, dwarfing her in his presence. "You have completed the data recovery from the memory buffers I provided?" he asked.

"Yes, commander," she replied, her light frame ducking out of his shadow and crossing the bay gracefully to a computer console. "I thought it best to provide you with the information personally," she said as she transferred the data to a portable storage crystal. "You said that it was of the utmost secrecy and I didn't wish to risk it falling into the wrong hands while you were away."

"And the decryption is complete?" asked Starscream, taking the chip.

"Of course, sir," she replied. "We succeeded in recovering and decrypting over ninety-five percent of the data in the memory buffers. It's all on that crystal."

"Perfect," Starscream gloated, lifting the small shard of yellow crystal to eye-level and looking into its fractal interior. He turned to her, his tone dropping to a more menacing growl. "You are aware of the secrecy of this matter?"

"Of course," she replied, coming to a rigid attention.

"And does the same go for your team?" he asked.

"Of course," she told him. "I vouch for my team personally. The information we have recovered will not be revealed to anyone outside this room."

"Have you analysed the data?"

"I made a preliminary evaluation to ensure the efficacy of the recovery, of course," replied Technoshear, "but no in-depth analysis was carried out to my knowledge."

"Lucky for you and your team, Technoshear," Starscream replied. Turning from her, he opened a data port on his forearm and inserted the crystal tip into it. As he activated the data transfer, the crystal's data flooded into his circuitry. His optics widened and bleached as he processed the memory buffer data, and then they narrowed warily as he removed the crystal from the data-port. He turned to Technoshear. "This data is to be purged immediately!" he told her. "It must never leave this room!"

"Of course, sir," she replied, optics widening with concern.

"Make sure it is," he warned her, crushing the crystal to dust in his hand. "This information must never be revealed to anyone." He surveyed the other technicians in the room, his optics centring on a small white mech in the far corner of the bay. With a mental command his port chest launcher fired, and the technician was ripped apart by the low-yield cluster bomb. Technoshear turned to her dead team member. "Air-brain!"

"An example of what will happen should this information ever become public, Technoshear!" Starscream told her, his narrowed optics locking onto her own. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, commander," she replied, lowering her gaze. "I'll purge the data myself."

"Then we can avoid any more unpleasantness," Starscream smiled. "I would be sorry to lose your expertise, Technoshear." He turned from the bay, Thundercracker moving on ahead. At the door he paused and turned back to the remaining technicians. A vicious smile crossed his lips. "Excellent work, by the way," he chuckled. "I couldn't have been more impressed and happy with the results." Without waiting for a response, he left the bay and the doors closed behind him.

Thundercracker paused for him to catch up, and as Starscream took the lead he addressed his commander. "Well, whatever they found it definitely put a coil in your foot as the fleshies say."

"Ahh, Thundercracker," sighed Starscream infinitely pleased with himself, "you couldn't begin to comprehend what Soundwave discovered before his untimely death. Oblivion had very good reason to kill my old opponent. And I intend to capitalise fully on his loss."

"What are you planning, Screamer?" Thundercracker chuckled.

"All will be revealed," Starscream replied with a grin.

Before Thundercracker could respond, the Rookery's intercom activated and Concussion's voice spoke. "This is Rookery control. Commander Starscream, we have received word from Darkmount. All Decepticon command officers are to report immediately to the Supreme Overlord."

"So," Starscream smiled, "our leader has broken his silence at last. Well, Thundercracker, let's go see what the moron has to say about his glorious retreat with his tail between his legs. It may even be mildly amusing to watch."

"That information must have been good," Thundercracker smirked.

"We'll collect Skywarp on the way," Starscream told him. "Once Mega Galvatron has finished his inevitable ranting, the three of us have a little journey to make!"

"Where to?"

"Hydrus IV," replied Starscream. "Or is it New Quintessa now? I've lost track."

"Who cares, I say," shrugged Thundercracker. "Doesn't make it any less foul and stinking!" Starscream shook his head at his lieutenant in amusement, before heading down the corridor towards the nearest repulsor-shaft. Thundercracker cast him a bemused smile before following.

Polyhex City-state, Sector Alpha-010 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 391 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 7 October 2070, 18:41 HOURS

The atmosphere in the throne room at Darkmount was tangible. Sitting in his immense throne, the cloud of fury around Mega Galvatron hung over the Decepticon commanders gathered below him. Cyclonus and Scourge stood to either side of the Supreme Overlord's dais. Starscream could see the restrained fear in Cyclonus' optics as the saboteur hoped to keep his leader's ire from venting at him. Scourge, on the other hand, was enjoying the sense of fear emanating from the other commanders, and his face betrayed a smile of smug satisfaction and a glint of pleasure in his ruby optics. Colossus stood close to the two Unicronians, managing to weather the anger of Mega Galvatron with a stiff determination, his respirator unit and optic visor hiding whatever true emotion was running through him. The Ultra Pretender Roadblock stood close to Colossus, though slightly farther from the fuming Decepticon leader above them, the bestial features of his inner shell shielding his internal anxiety from visual detection. Various other commanders stood farther from the throne, including Starscream himself, who was also weathering the storm of Mega Galvatron's anger alongside Thundercracker.

"You call yourselves Decepticons!" the Supreme Overlord roared. "Not one of you is worthy of association with the great warriors who came before you!" He stood up, his clawed hands flexing with his anger and his wings flared out from his shoulders. "You are all cowards and fools! Never have I seen such disgusting displays of weakness! Running from Autobots with your tails between your legs like pathetic Neutralists! All of you should be terminated and your troops with you! If I had the Decepticons to spare I'd have each and every one of you purged from our ranks!" He paused, his cooling systems pulling in air in rasping breaths to cool the energies his anger was releasing into his systems. "I am insulted at your cowardice! None of you deserve to be in my presence! Your lives are not worthy of sacrifice to my Decepticon Empire!"

Starscream looked around the room at his fellow officers, looking for signs of the inevitable response to Mega Galvatron's accusations. His optics seized on the clenched fists of Motormaster. Had he been human, the Stunticon leader's knuckles would have bleached with the anger locked up in those hands. He smiled inwardly. Of all the officers to lose their cool, it made sense that it would be Motormaster who went first. A few more kliks and this meeting could get interesting!

Mega Galvatron was still ranting: "All the Autobots on Cybertron should have been as nothing to Decepticons like you! We have conquered galactic sectors, and one simple assault on Iacon sends you running for the safety of Polyhex! Disgusting! You-"

"With all due respect," Motormaster butted in, his gruff voice contemptuous, "I recall the order to retreat was given by you, leader! Moments before you fled the battlefield at warp!"

Mega Galvatron's optics rounded on Motormaster, their crimson depths bleaching white with fury. "You dare blame me for this?" he growled menacingly. "I who am as a god compared to you? You do not deserve to address me as an equal, you primitive inconsequential mechanism!" Before Motormaster could react, Mega Galvatron had summoned one of his cannons from subspace and a stream of charged particles had sheared the Stunticon's arm from his shoulder. As he fell to the ground clutching his wound, Mega Galvatron descended from his throne. "None of you," he shouted in uncontrolled fury. "None of you have what it takes to serve my Empire! You are all small and trivial beings clutching to a past that no longer exists!" He crossed to the doors of the throne room, turning back to them as he blocked the exit. "I should kill you all now," he told them in a low snarl. "Annihilate your pitiful troops and recycle their wreckage into Decepticon worthy of my leadership!" His second cannon emerged from subspace. "You are all unworthy of inclusion in my glorious future! Every last one of you!" He raised his cannons to the nearest officers, their power cells whining.

"Mighty one, please!" Cyclonus' outburst drew his attention. "Insignificant they are, my leader, but at present they are the only troops you have! In time we will bring forth Decepticons of true worth to you, but for now these are the best of their number."

Mega Galvatron turned to Cyclonus, lowering his cannons with a dark chuckle. "Oh, Cyclonus, you and Scourge think yourselves so much better than these others, don't you?"

"My lord?" asked Scourge, confused.

"I have seen you for what you are, idiots!" snapped the Supreme Overlord. "You are no less insignificant than they are! Primitive barely sentient creatures hardly better than the computer systems of Darkmount!" His lips curled into a smile. "You are almost below my notice, Cyclonus! Once you may have been nearly my equals, but those days have passed! You are as much a part of the past as these others!" His smile broadened, his desire growing to show these fools how small they were to him. He locked Cyclonus with his gaze, seeing the anger that the saboteur was trying his hardest to conceal. As he held his lieutenant's attention, he made his move.

Mega Galvatron's cannon lifted on target, already pre-charged, and fired. The charged particles cut through the air, releasing a scent of ozone and electrifying the atmosphere on their path. Cyclonus tore his optics from Mega Galvatron's gaze and turned to see the target of the Supreme Overlord's shot. His optics widened as they fell on Scourge. The tracker was clutching at the edges of a gaping hole that filled the centre of his torso. One of his wing-shields had been torn away and thrown across the chamber where it had embedded in the wall. Energon sparked from the primary waveguides that had been severed by the blast, and cables and circuitry trailed out the exit wound in his back. The blue Unicronian looked up at Cyclonus with optics filled with disbelief and dread. As Cyclonus looked into his face, a trickle of mingled nutrient-oil and lubricant ran down the edge of his mouth. "Cy-Cyclonus," he sputtered, leaving a spray of oil on his lips. Before Cyclonus could respond, his comrade collapsed to the ground with a crash of metal and moments later was torn apart by the overload of his energon stores.

"Scourge!" Cyclonus called out in grief and horror. He turned to Mega Galvatron, fighting the desire to summon his own weapons and attempt to avenge his friend's death. "Why?" he asked.

"Now you know your place, Cyclonus," Mega Galvatron replied, his tone calm and emotionless. He strode across the throne room to the wreckage of his old lieutenant and nudged what had been a leg with the tip of his toe. He smiled. Turning to the other officers, he spoke. "This is the fate of all those who fail me! Consider this your only warning!" He turned and climbed the steps to his throne. Once seated, he pointed at the doors to the chamber. "Now all of you get out!" he boomed commandingly.

Without another word, the Decepticon commanders hurried from the throne room. Cyclonus was the last to leave. He paused at the exit and turned to the abandoned wreckage of Scourge, then up at Mega Galvatron. "Was there something else you wanted to add, Cyclonus?" he asked with a vicious smile.

"No, my lord," Cyclonus replied. Without another word, he turned from the room. As the doors closed behind him, he roared at the top of his vocoder in rage and despondency.

Styrakon System, New Quintessa (Hydrus IV)  
Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1337 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 13 October 2070, 06:04 HOURS

The planet once called Hydrus IV sat on the remote tip of one spiral arm of the galaxy. For much of its history it had been ignored and forgotten by the bustle of galactic society and left to develop along its own path without outside interference. And then Hydrusian scientists had discovered Nucleon, and the small biomechanical world had become very important in galactic affairs. It had been caught up in the last days of the Cybertronian Great War as the Autobots and Decepticons fought over the Hydrusians' Nucleon. Then in the Earth year 2005 the planet had attracted even less welcome attention from Quintesson raiders. Inherently a peaceful society, the Hydrusians had been conquered by the invaders and their planet's resources and Nucleon plundered to affect a renaissance of both the Quintesson and Decepticon civilisations. Since the Decepticons had conquered the Bersalis Cluster almost fifty Earth-years later, the planet had been left in the control of the Quintessons and had been transformed. It was now the new home-world of the Hydrusians' Quintesson masters, who had renamed the world New Quintessa.

The warp gate in orbit of New Quintessa yawned wide above the planet, its writhing swirling surface alight with the immense energies required to bring subspace and hyperspace into such intimate contact with normal space-time. For several kliks it shone like a small sun in the dawn sky - illuminating the green-grey biomechanical surface and purplish oceans of hydrocarbons - before the energies taken to maintain it were exhausted and it snapped shut as quickly as it had appeared. In its place, the universe had disgorged three alien aircraft into the vacuum of space. The three Terran-style F-22 Raptors fired engines that were beyond human technology and accelerated towards the planet below them. As the planet's security net detected their presence, a flurry of sensor scans swept across the new arrivals from cloaked orbital defence satellites and surface installations. Within a matter of kliks, communications channels came alive as Quintesson security hailed the three aircraft.

Moments later, the lead grey, red and blue fighter responded. "New Quintessa, this is Decepticon Seeker commander Starscream requesting landing clearance. Over."

"Decepticon Starscream, we are transmitting landing co-ordinates to you now," came the gruff response. "Do not deviate from our flight plan or you will be shot down."

"Understood, New Quintessa," replied Starscream, as he and his two wing-men - Thundercracker and Skywarp - received the landing co-ordinates and moved onto the flight path transmitted by Quintesson security. The three Decepticons banked down towards the surface, monitored constantly by security and tactical sensors.

As Starscream dropped out of orbit and into the thick cloying atmosphere of New Quintessa, the ubiquitous green-grey of the land masses resolved to reveal the geographic features of the humid jungle-world. Vast forests of biomechanical vegetation spread out from the equator, interrupted by crater-like vents that erupted from the planet's hot interior to send plumes of heated hydrocarbon-rich gases into the air where they condensed and rained down in greasy droplets to the thirsty forests below. To the Hydrusians, this environment had been perfect, but to Starscream it was a living hell of rust-spots, energon flukes and seizing joints. He had once hoped never to see this world again, but now it was the most important world in Starscream's universe! Ahead, the forests thinned out where an ugly golden city seemed to have pushed its way up out of the ground like a fetid ulcer, its architecture curved and spiralling with branching coils erupting at awkward angles that displeased the optic sensor, and everywhere the number five reared its head in the design ethic of the metropolis. As the Decepticons approached the city - it had grown immensely in its sprawl across the planet's northern hemisphere since Starscream had last seen it, sending up immense metal parabolas that disappeared across the far horizon in defiance of gravity - a cluster of landing beacons began to flash around the edge of a pentagonal landing pad near the edge of the forests. They landed in robot mode at the centre of the pad, and moments later the clanking of heavy machinery signalled the descent of the pad into the hangar below.

As a heavy iris door spiralled closed over them, finally shielding them from the greasy rain that had pelted them on their descent, a door opened in one of the walls of the five-sided hangar and a tall slender Cybertronian entered, bowing to the three Decepticons. The Cybertronian was primarily black and silver. A silver racer alt-mode spoiler formed his chest plate over a black upper torso. Each shoulder was topped by a silver grille either side of his head. His upper arms were silver, above black forearms and hands with launcher assemblies mounted on each forearm. Behind his shoulders extended black wing-shields flashed with silver, four silver spine-like manoeuvring vanes emerging from behind each wing-shield flanking twin engine nacelles on his back. His pelvis and thighs were silver above black lower legs formed by his racer-mode bow, each knee occupied by a machine-gun port and silver flashes on his shins. His feet were formed by the mirrored halves of his racer canopy. His cranial helmet was as black as his upper torso, with a long straight horn emerging from either side behind his temples at forty-five degree angles. Two silver blades ran from his forehead to the back of his neck, merging into the featureless polished silver plate that covered his entire face. "Welcome to New Quintessa, comrades," he purred, his velvety voice edged with a darkness and malevolence that would have sent shivers up the back-strut of a less battle-hardened listener. "I am Herald, chief attendant of his Eminence the great Oblivion." He turned to face Starscream, his featureless mask reflecting the Seeker commander's own features back to him. "His Eminence has been expecting your arrival, commander Starscream."

"He has, has he?" Starscream replied, his sly smile reflected back to him by Herald's face-plate.

"Oh, yes," Herald purred. "The reasons for your visit are of great interest to him."

I bet they are! thought Starscream, before responding: "And I would be glad to enlighten him. I have much to discuss with your master."

"Excellent," Herald purred. "Please follow me. I am sure that you and your followers would like the chance to recharge and clean the local precipitation from your exo-plating. When you are refreshed, I am certain that his Eminence will be most eager to receive your audience."

"I'm sure he will," replied Starscream, smiling. He turned his head to Thundercracker and Skywarp and indicated for them to follow. As they fell in behind him, Herald led him from the hangar.

Herald left the three Seekers in one of the city's palatial guest residences in the heavily guarded inner core of the city. The residence was the size of a small Decepticon frontier outpost, and was decorated in the lavish status-driven opulence that was typical of Quintesson style. Even here the number five and spirals were incorporated into every aspect of design, from the layout of the rooms and floors to the mouldings on the walls and ceilings. As Herald bowed low in exit, leaving them alone, Starscream stepped out into the midst of the vaulted main hall of the residence and cast an appreciative eye over his surroundings. "This," he chuckled, "is the kind of status that I was built to attain."

"I don't know," replied Thundercracker with a shrug. "It's a little enclosed for my liking. I like to be up in the air, not locked up down here at ground level."

"Yes," replied Starscream a little ruffled, "well you obviously weren't meant for this level of status, were you?"

"I was only saying," grumbled Thundercracker, folding his arms across his chest. "If you like it, well, that's your choice."

"Yes, it is!" Starscream responded, peeved. "And when I am Decepticon high commander, my palace will make this look like a repair shop."

"So," interrupted Skywarp, wiping a film of grease off his shoulder, "where are these oil baths Herald promised us? I'm covered in this stuff!" He flung the grease off his fingertips onto the polished silver floor of the chamber before crossing to a computer terminal. His fingers jabbed at the alien access console as he searched for the residence floor plans. "You know," he muttered to no one in particular, "these things would be a lot easier to use if I had tentacles."

"Of course they would, you half-wit!" snapped Starscream, pushing him aside. "They're built for Quintessons! Now let me have a try!" He tapped at the bizarrely configured console until he finally found the floor plans. "Ah, here we are," he muttered. "There's a communal oil bath on the third floor along with recharge berths."

"Do you think they'll have a few classy little femme-droids to give me a hand cleaning myself down?" Skywarp grinned, clasping his hands behind his head. "I recall the Hydrusians had a few sweet little models last time we were here."

"We're here on business!" snapped Starscream. "Enjoy yourself after we're done! I didn't bring you along to play with females!"

"Aww, spoilsport," chuckled Skywarp, heading for the grand staircase at the far side of the chamber. He took the steps three at a time, leaving Starscream and Thundercracker to catch up. "So, Starscream," Thundercracker began hesitantly, "exactly what did you find out that-"

"Shut up, you moron!" hissed Starscream over internal communications. "Remember where we are! Do you really think we aren't being monitored?"

"Sorry," shrugged Thundercracker apologetically.

"Don't be sorry," Starscream told him, "be smart! Engage that cranial centre of yours every once in a while!"

"Yeah, I'll bear that in mind," he replied as they climbed the stairs after Skywarp.

New Quintessa, Central City, Hall of Justice Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1379 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 13 October 2070, 11:54 HOURS

The Quintesson Hall of Justice was a labyrinthine complex at the heart of the city, serving as a military base, command centre, and the seat of the unified executive, legislative and judicial government for the whole of New Quintessa. A bewildering maze of audience chambers, interrogation suites, holding cells, security centres, armouries, Sharkticon pens and courtrooms spread out through the structure in no discernible order, though everywhere the number five loomed side-by-side with helices and spirals. As Herald led the three Decepticon Seekers toward their audience with Oblivion they caught sight of several Quintesson courtrooms through open portals, witnessing firsthand the finality of Quintesson justice. Thundercracker grew more worried with each glimpse. Glancing at his comrades he detected no such nervousness from them. Quite the opposite: Skywarp was typically nonchalant as he complimented Herald on the oil baths and energon, and Starscream was locked single-minded on getting whatever it was Soundwave's buffers had indicated was here for him. Reflecting on his situation, Thundercracker was beginning to wish for the old pre-deputy days when all he had to worry about was whether his loyalties were well placed!

After much meandering through hectocubits of twisting and branching identical tunnels, which Thundercracker was beginning to believe was Herald's way of increasing their anxiety by taking them in circles, they eventually came into a large vaulted hall into which emptied several other corridors. At the far side, a vast arched door of precious metals and jewels stood flanked by four Quintesson guard units. As they entered the hall, the guards drew themselves to full height and held their barbed and serrated force-pikes at the ready with single-minded obedience to their programming, their cold red optics calculating threat analyses on the new arrivals. Herald stepped ahead of his master's guests and crossed to the guards. "Stand down!" he ordered them in a harsh commanding voice, eliciting an immediate and obedient response from their barely sentient minds. He turned to the Decepticons and spoke in his familiar purr. "I will inform his Eminence that you are here. Please await his summons." Without another word he strode towards the monolithic doors, which parted only enough to allow him entrance before snapping swiftly shut. As soon as Herald was gone, the four guards returned to defensive postures, eyeing the three Decepticons belligerently.

It was several cycles before the reinforced doors opened fully with a rumble of heavy machinery and the guards stood down to allow Starscream and his wing-men past. The five-sided chamber beyond was incomprehensibly vast, making the Imperial Amphitheatre in Polyhex seem tiny by comparison. Helical pillars ran down the walls five-deep without lessening the spatial impact by more than a tiny fraction, and the vaulted ceiling dome could have accommodated Trypticon below its frescoed surface. Directly opposite the door, a stepped multilevel dais rose to a platform in the far corner of the chamber, on which stood an ornate bejewelled throne, and between the throne and the dais the polished floor dropped into the fatal depths of a Sharkticon pool.

Herald stood silent and immobile on the lowest tier of the dais, and as the optics of the Seekers followed the steps up past three further tiers to the upper platform they finally met the emotionless emerald gaze of the being known simply, and aptly, as Oblivion. The optics were set in silver sockets that seemed to be filled by tiny wires that radiated out from the green lenses to angular and visibly sectioned facial exo-plating. His head was enclosed in a bulky jet-black cranial helmet that extended armour plates out from the forehead and sides over his nose and upper jaw in an inverted T. Below the armour his lower jaw was bare silver exo-plating, a cleft running vertically down the centre of his chin from his mouth, eventually splitting the chin into two curved spikes. A vertical row of sharp silver spikes extended out from each audio module below a pair of long purple horns that curved upward towards sharp tips. The surface of each horn was riddled with bare circuitry and their span extended out beyond his powerful silver shoulders. Three razor-edged blades ran back from his forehead to the base of his helmet. Black bat-like wings were folded around his shoulders, revealing the curved black horns that erupted from the top of his black arms and enveloping his body to his bulky purple lower legs and the silver birdlike talons that formed his feet. A pair of purple engine nacelles were mounted on the back of his shoulders. Oblivion's lips curled into what approached a welcoming smile, revealing a maw of needle-like fangs. "Welcome to New Quintessa, Decepticons," he addressed them, his deep malevolent voice reverberating around the vast chamber. "I was not aware that your new leader was sending emissaries to Quintesson territory… Mega Galvatron cost my followers much in his last strategy. Does he wish to apologise for his abject failure?"

Starscream stepped forward, bowing his head to the enthroned being. "I am Starscream of Vos, Eminence," he addressed him reverently. "I come here of my own accord. I was not sent."

"Indeed?" chuckled Oblivion. "You wish audience with Oblivion for some private matter?… I am intrigued. Most would have self-terminated to avoid entering my court."

"I am not most, Eminence," replied Starscream, lifting his head to meet Oblivion's eye. The emerald green optics held his gaze, seeming to peer into the Seeker's spark.

After several kliks that seemed to extend to infinity, Oblivion laughed and stood up, breaking his almost hypnotic stare with Starscream. He descended from the throne, followed obediently by a dwarfed Herald. As he reached the floor of the high court, his wings flared out from his shoulders and folded down his back, revealing the true enormity of his form. His bulky silver chest and shoulders were split down the front by a black aircraft nose module that ran from his collar to form the centre of his pelvis. A red cockpit filled the module at the centre of his abdomen and silver stabiliser fins at the nose cone formed the front of his pelvis. The rest of his torso was jet-black and hulking, as were his thighs and horned knees. His bulky black arms were horned at the shoulder and elbow, each protrusion razor-sharp, above silver wrist modules. His powerful silver hands were equipped with a thumb on each side of the palm, each of the six digits ending in a curved claw. He crossed to Starscream with his talons clicking on the metal floor with every step, his towering form dwarfing the three Seekers. "You interest me, Starscream," he told the Seeker commander, his voice hushed but just as dark and menacing. His hands lifted to Starscream's shoulders before tracing through the air over his exo-plating as he tasted the aura of the Decepticon. "I sense such potential locked up inside you." He leant in close to Starscream's grilled audio module. "What would you give me to unlock it?" he whispered, his tone silky and edged with greed. "What are your ambitions worth, hmm? Why don't you tell me?"

Starscream suppressed a shiver of mingled fear and disgust, before raising his optics to Oblivion's face. "I give nothing, Eminence," he replied in an even tone. "I take what I want!"

Oblivion straightened, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "Then tell me, Starscream of Vos," he asked balefully, "what would you take to achieve your dreams?" He turned away from the Decepticon, his wings flaring out and then folding around his body. Starscream felt his senses bristle in warning, before a voice cut through his thoughts with all the force of a hurricane: You would take a life for your dreams, Starscream. Oblivion looked back at the Seeker over his shoulder; his lips curled into a smile as his telepathic presence pushed deeper into the Decepticon's mind. Would you take a thousand? Millions? Billions? An entire species? An entire world? He turned his gaze from a Starscream clearly shaken by the intrusion and began to walk back to the throne. He spoke aloud without looking back. "Think over what I said, Starscream. Such glorious potential should not be wasted… Now, leave me!" He waved a dismissing hand over his shoulder, and Starscream felt an invisible force push him towards the door. He indicated for Thundercracker and Skywarp to follow and left the high court, the immense doors grinding shut behind them.

Central City, Slave Pits Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1470 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 00:32 HOURS

By rare celestial convergence, New Quintessa's day-night cycle was currently overlapping the day-night cycle of Cybertron despite the differences in orbit and rotation of the two worlds. The stellar observatory in Cybertron's city-state of Nova Cronum made it just over two decabreems past midnight, and Central City on New Quintessa was at a similar phase in its cycle. The large primary moon of New Quintessa shone through the cloud and haze that hung over the darkened forests as it sank to the eastern horizon. Though in the past it had outshone any constructed light source on Hydrus IV, in comparison to the lights of Central City it was a feeble orb in the muggy sky. An oily rain had begun falling at dusk, and the greasy droplets had bathed the city streets and rooftops in a film of iridescent hydrocarbons that made the golden buildings shine in the artificial lights of the Quintesson capital.

On the remote northern edge of the city, the sweeping Quintesson architecture degraded to a series of single-storey grey buildings, their interconnected pentagonal structures utilitarian and standardised. Here the lights were dim, if they were lit at all, and Quintesson guards patrolled the streets ready to destroy anyone who violated the security of their patrol zones. This was the slave quarter of Central City, where the indigenous Hydrusian population of the planet were held between their work shifts, given just enough energon and nutrient solutions to keep them functional but hungry for more. The dilapidated buildings were as downtrodden as their inhabitants. Below ground, the buildings expanded into slave warrens patrolled by guards only marginally less bestial than their comrades on the surface streets. Every Hydrusian longed to escape this bondage, but fear of the guards - or the Sharkticon pits in the Hall of Justice - kept the majority in check.

The interior of the surface level of each building was a series of facilities for the Quintesson slave-masters, centred on a large five-sided pit that dropped down to a main floor five storeys below in the slave warrens. At the upper ground level, the pit was ringed by a large protected walkway from which the slave-masters could monitor activities below them. At night the pits were generally quiet but for the post-midnight visit to one of them by their master Oblivion, always accompanied by the silent wraithlike presence of Herald.

The tall form of Oblivion stood silent and chillingly motionless on the armoured walkway overlooking slave pit Z-11-AK-4, his wings closed tight around his body and his emerald optics surveying the assembled slaves below - turned from their berths mid sleep-cycle and standing shivering and disoriented - as Herald strode among their ranks with his forearm launchers armed and ready for use. At Oblivion's side, a small nautilus-type Quintesson administrator shivered in awe of its towering master. "As you can see, Eminence," it said in a tone that tried to hide its fear, "the slaves in this pit are only of the highest quality, both in terms of physical strength and excellence. They also have exceptional intelligence. They are generally put to use in skilled tasks. We allow only the best to live." It paused, waiting for a reply from Oblivion, and received none. This made it feel all the more nervous. "Yes," it continued, more for its own benefit than its master's, "these are the cream of the Hydrusian labour pool. They work very efficiently."

"Silence yourself, administrator," Oblivion said hollowly. "I am not here for workers as you are well aware. I have other needs that demand to be sated."

"Yes, Eminence," it replied, its tentacles flapping in fear as it backed away on its repulsor beam. "You may take your pick, as is your prerogative."

"Then silence!" Oblivion ordered, his voice becoming infinitely deeper and more malevolent. "Or I will sate my hunger with you!" The administrator's tentacles virtually shook themselves from their sockets as it backed away, hitting the bulkhead behind it and almost crying out in terror.

Oblivion turned his bottomless gaze back to the pit, and surveyed the slaves. Finally, he raised a clawed hand and pointed to one of the Hydrusians. Herald bowed his head and lifted an arm to the Hydrusian. Before the slave could react, the launcher fired a web of energy that entangled him and sucked him to the ground immobile, joining several dozen others that Herald had already incapacitated. As the slave slipped into a temporary deactivation, Herald turned back to his master. "Another, Eminence?" he purred.

"These shall suffice for this night," replied Oblivion, surveying the off-line Hydrusian mechanoids. Herald nodded, and indicated for the other slaves to be returned to their quarters. Quintesson guards that had been lurking around the edge of the Pit rushed in, pushing and shoving the functional Hydrusians out through the dark portals that exited the pit. As the last were forced from the chamber, Oblivion lifted an open hand to the dozen or so netted Hydrusians. For a few moments nothing seemed to happen, and then they disappeared. Moments later, he and Herald also disappeared from the slave pit, leaving a terrified administrator in their wake.

Central City, Hall of Justice Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1474 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 01:04 HOURS

Starscream crouched in the shadow beneath a helix ridge at the base of one of the towers of the Hall of Justice, hidden inside his Pretender shell. Across the square in front of him, the wall of the high court rose out of sight to the domed roof high above. He was so close to his goal! He could virtually taste the power that sat just beyond his fingertips. Failure at this juncture was unthinkable. The square was one of several that served to allow Oblivion public audience with his Quintesson subjects from a high balcony. If he could reach that balcony, his entry into the building would be assured. The reason he was hiding in shadows when his goal was so tantalisingly close was the squad of Quintesson guards that were currently standing between him and this objective. They had arrived in the square moments after he had, and he had only just managed to find cover in the shadows before they had seen him. Since then, he had wasted almost half a breem unable to reach the balcony without detection. One or two guards he was sure he could handle, but attacking the dozen units that blocked his way would result either in him being overpowered or Quintesson security being alerted to him. Though never a very religious Decepticon, he couldn't help cursing the Ultimate Warrior for this bad luck! He watched the guards silently as they shared stories of their mistreatment of the native Hydrusians, willing them to move on in their patrol. After another cycle passed with no sign of their gruff voices and laughter abating, he moved to the riskier plan B.

Starscream slipped quietly around the tower out of sight of the guards and into the open street that led off into the city. Straightening up, he cracked open his shell and stepped out. Heavy droplets of oily rain splattered on his metalwork. Now, he thought, comes the cunning part! Accessing his shell's remote systems, he reconnected its halves and took control of its motor and sensory systems. As Starscream deployed his arm cannons, his shell once again took hold of its thermal carbine. Returning to the shadows under the ledge he directed his shell forward into the square. The guards' conversation changed to gruff shouts as they spotted his shell 'sneaking' towards them. Kliks later, the thermal carbine fired and one of the guards dropped to the ground, leaking energon and internal fluids from what remained of its head. The others reacted immediately, switching into their reptilian modes and leaping towards the shell.

Starscream beat the first of the reptilians away with his shell, firing several blasts from the thermal carbine that disembowelled a few others. As he smiled with satisfaction, he directed his shell to turn tail and run from the square. Soon after, the empty shell rushed past his hiding place and down the street with the remaining guards following. As it ran from the pursuing guards, Starscream dived from the shadows and ran across the square. As the immense walls of the high court approached, he engaged his heel jets and was thrust up into the air towards the balcony high above. A few kliks later, he vaulted over the balcony rail and crouched down in the shadows, returning his full attention to controlling his shell.

Several cycles later, the shell ran back into the square from another direction, only a matter of kliks ahead of the pursuing guards. As it ran towards the balcony where Starscream was hiding, the Decepticon activated his subspace systems. Several kliks later, it entered subspace range of its owner and disappeared from sight. Starscream peered over the balcony at the bewildered guards. As he watched their primitive processors struggle to understand what had happened, he reactivated his subspace systems and withdrew his thermal carbine. As it fell into his waiting hands, he activated its sniper mode. Several blasts later, the guards lay sprawled in the square below, fluids trickling from the entry wounds in their heads.

Starscream returned the rifle to subspace and straightened, his optics scanning the balcony for the exit. A little hacking of the lock circuitry later, and he was through into the building. He was in an ornate grand corridor that ringed the building on this upper level, the opposite wall formed by an array of observation windows. Starscream crossed and looked out into the high court chamber. The corridor seemed to sit atop the helical pillars ringing the court with the domed ceiling rising above the observation windows. From where Starscream stood he could see the throne-topped dais clearly, and could see the door behind the throne. Turning his optics to the rest of the courtroom, he searched for an entrance on his level and found none.

So close! He was so infuriatingly close to his goal, and yet if he couldn't get into the courtroom he was still just as far away as he had been in the guest residence. In frustration, he clenched his fists and almost smashed them through the window, but good sense stayed his hand. The windows would surely be alarmed, alerting security to any attempt to infiltrate Oblivion's court if he should force his way through. To have come this far and then alert security would be the ultimate failure, and the ultimate embarrassment. No, he had to think through his options. Work out a way to get to his goal. No security system was infallible. There would be a way through!

He unclenched his fists and ran his palms over the surface of the window. The tingle of the security grid within the pane ran through his exo-plating, strong and vibrant. He moved his palms calmly over the surface, attempting to find a flaw in the field. Edging slowly down the array of windows, he painstakingly checked every pane and frame for a change in the grid that would show him a way through. For several breems he searched the long array that ran down this wall of the courtroom, sub-processors analysing the sensor data for patterns. As he reached the end of the array, he smiled. "Here you are," he whispered, his tone excited and triumphant. His hands ran from the pane onto the wall and up the edge of the window until he found the correct spot. Then, he targeted one of his null ray cannons and fired. Energy spiked in the security grid for a few nanokliks as the null ray hit the control processors encased within the wall, and then security for the entire window array collapsed. Smiling victorious, Starscream barrelled through the nearest window pane. He somersaulted in mid-air and landed nimbly on the floor of the high court, immediately assuming a defensive posture and scanning for danger.

He didn't have long! He may have avoided triggering the alarms, but the grid failure would have registered with Quintesson security. A guard would probably be deployed to check the area, and Starscream's presence would be detected. A sense of urgency accelerating his internal systems, he rushed around the central Sharkticon pit and ascended the dais to the throne. Rounding the throne, he approached the ornate door that led into what he assumed was Oblivion's inner sanctum. His reward was so close! Power would be his! He would dispose of Cyclonus. Then that insane fool Mega Galvatron. And then he would take his rightful position as Decepticon High Commander, and lead the Empire to final victory over the peace-loving Autobot fools! He had always known his destiny, and now it was finally within his grasp. At his approach, the ornate door split down the centre and retracted into the frame, revealing a darkness so deep that it was like looking out into nothingness. A sense of anxiety momentarily drove away his impending destiny, before he pushed it aside and stepped into the inky blackness beyond the door.

Oblivion's Sanctuary Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 1478 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 14 October 2070, 01:37 HOURS

To Starscream, the darkness that surrounded him seemed to stretch to infinity, and the silence made the pumping of fuel in his audio modules seem deafening. Even after several kliks of his optical sub-processor's futile attempts to adapt to the utter impenetrable blackness around him, he was still completely blind to what lay more than a cubit from his face. The only light was the glow of his own optic sensors. Again the feelings of anxiety threatened to overwhelm him and drive him back the way he had come, but as he glanced over his shoulder he realised that the way back had been reduced to darkness too. If not for his internal gyroscopes and the tactile sensors in his feet telling him there was a floor beneath him, he would have felt dizzied by the lack of sensory input. Even his electromagnetic, radar, radio-wave and olfactory sensors were struggling to adapt to a total absence of input. The only 'sights' he received were the red warnings from his own sensors as their sub-processors began to interpret the deprivation as system failures. The flood of warnings, coupled with a lack of input to occupy his conscious mind, threatened to overwhelm him totally and it took a supreme effort of will to remain in control of himself as his internal chronometers ticked away the kliks.

For several cycles he stood in the emptiness unable to detect anything that might be in the room around him, until finally a chilling laugh broke the silence. The sudden audio input almost overwhelmed his deprived sensors. The sound was like a physical shock that made him stagger from it, his body coming into contact with the solid surface of the wall not more than a cubit behind him. For several kliks, the room once again fell back into silence, before the dark voice of Oblivion spoke from what seemed like centicubits from his left audio module. "I have been expecting you, Starscream." The voice seemed to move to an equal distance from his right audio module. "You may be pleased to hear that I am most impressed." The words drifted into the far distance. "None have ever come this close to my presence undetected by Quintesson security. It is most impressive."

"Where are you?" Starscream asked, struggling to keep his rising panic from his tone.

"Why, I am right here," came the amused reply, followed by a dark chuckle that seemed to reverberate around the inside of Starscream's psyche. There was a pause before the voice continued. "But I forget, you are still limited to the primitive senses given you by your mortal sciences. What seems illuminated to me is still impenetrable dark to you." The vast enormity of space seemed to swim into existence around him, dotted by stars that seemed far too detailed for their size and distance. "Is this better?" Oblivion's question dripped condescension.

"It will do," replied Starscream, refusing to admit his weakness in the empty blackness that had preceded it.

"You still hide your weakness, Decepticon," Oblivion chuckled. "There is no logic in doing so. I am aware of everything in that fragile spark of yours."

"Everything?" asked Starscream, his curiosity aroused.

"Yes, Starscream," chuckled Oblivion. "Everything."

Starscream became aware of a speck of light in the far distance. For several kliks it seemed to grow closer, the stars whizzing around him as though he were travelling towards it at impossible speeds. The motion dizzied him, and again he staggered slightly. As the speck grew to fill his visual field it revealed itself as a vast circular portal that rushed at him, leaving him standing disoriented in a high vaulted chamber. The main floor was several storeys below at the foot of the steps on which he was precariously perched. The dim hall was terraced between Starscream's position and the floor below, each occupied by macabre and gruesome semi-humanoid statues that seemed to emerge organically out of the structure of the room. Many seemed to fuse again with the room at the tips of outstretched arms and tentacles, or formed hideous amalgams with the neighbouring statues. Those that had recognisable facial features seemed twisted into expressions of horror and agony that chilled even Starscream's hardened spark. The floor below was littered with deactivated Hydrusians.

Oblivion sat on a biomechanical ovoid throne that seemed to have been extruded from the centre of the vaulted ceiling and grown to fit its occupier. His hands stretched out on deformed, almost organic, armrests. Held in the air by the throne's main trunk connection to the ceiling, as well as several other segmented cables and pipes that coiled around the central support and each other, Oblivion was high enough above the main floor for Starscream to stand upright below him if he had dared to get that close to the abnormal construct. Being in the room at all was disturbing enough. "What is this place?" he asked, unable to keep his optics from lingering unnerved on the twisted statues and bizarrely organic throne.

"You have reached my inner sanctum, Starscream," Oblivion chuckled. "You should be very proud of that fact. None have dared attempt it before… Others have been here, but not willingly." He indicated the twisted deformed statues. "Hydrusian slaves," he told the Decepticon with a vicious grin. "Those who have previously sated my hunger, immortalised forever within my sanctum." His smile broadened, revealing needle-like fangs that were serrated along the back edge, and he stroked the arm of his throne. "You remember Lord Jyrhil, the Quintesson chief justice who reactivated your old leader, Megatron," he said meaningfully. "He has since served me most comfortably." The laugh that escaped Oblivion chilled Starscream's fuel lines to his laser core.

"I care nothing for Hydrusians or Quintessons," Starscream told Oblivion, again refusing to express his horror. "I left one Quintesson dying in the guest residence. Why should I worry about what you did to their ex-leader? It seems poetic justice to use the old slave-master as he used others."

"I suppose it does," replied Oblivion. "Now if you would give me just one moment I shall attend to you. But first I have a meal to finish." He turned his emerald optics from Starscream to one of the Hydrusians littering the floor of his sanctum. At the movement, the small mechanoid - the only one not bearing great gashes in its exo-plating - lifted into the air and drifted almost leisurely to Oblivion's waiting hand, his clawed fingers closing around her throat. The Hydrusian stirred at Oblivion's touch, and her optic shutters parted to look into his face. Starscream watched unable to tear his eyes away as Oblivion's mouth opened, splitting exo-plating between his upper and lower jaws as they yawned wide. As they expanded to their maximum spread, the cleft in the lower jaw seemed to pull apart and the two halves swung out to either side, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp knives that lined his gaping maw down to the dull red glow of internal matter-smelters in his torso. With a shriek and crunch of rending metal, Oblivion drew the Hydrusian's head into his mouth where the multiple rows of teeth ground through her cranial cap and slowly devoured the interior. The slurp and gurgle of internal fluids sounded as he drained the body of all nourishment. Finally, he dropped the dead shell to the ground and returned his gaze to Starscream, his optics now glowing brightly.

"Now," he addressed the horrified Decepticon once his lower jaw had reformed, "what is it that brought you to me, Starscream?"

Starscream remained silent, his mind struggling to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. Cannibalising parts and energon from dead comrades was no great taboo among the Decepticons, but what he had just witnessed was so far beyond military recycling that he was lost for words. He had watched Ratbat and others feeding from fuel lines with mild disgust, but Oblivion's devouring of the living left an icy chill in his spark. His optics drifted to the deformed statues encircling the chamber, now all too aware of the source of their horrified expressions. A niggling doubt whispered in the back of his mind, urging him to try with every fibre of his being to escape this charnel house before he joined the Hydrusians in silent and immobile torment. Had he underestimated Oblivion's malignancy?

No! His failure now was unimaginable. He drew himself straight and proud as he determined to go through with this despite the risk. The potential rewards outweighed any dangers to him or his wing-men. Suppressing his fears, he descended to the floor amid the hideously torn and dismembered Hydrusians and looked up to Oblivion with a cunning twinkle in his optic. "You asked me what I would take to achieve my ambitions, Eminence," he said haughtily. "Well, I would take your anonymity for a start." He allowed a carefully weighted smile to curl his lips. "I know who you are."

"Is that so?" Oblivion chuckled.

"Oh, yes. You may have pulled the wool over the eyes of the other Decepticons, but I am not so easily fooled. I have studied your actions, Oblivion. Studied how you carefully avoided setting foot on Cybertron even after Megatron conquered Polyhex." He steepled his hands in front of his chest and cocked his head to one side, eyeing the giant above him. "So the question becomes, why would someone avoid Cybertron for almost four centivorns? Even the security of Decepticon-controlled Polyhex?"

"And so you have an answer to that question?" Oblivion asked darkly.

"Yes, I do," Starscream smiled. "It all comes down to who would fear Cybertron. Who would fear the Matrix energy coursing through every fibre of my home world? Now who could that be, Oblivion?"

"You are a fool, Starscream. If you truly understood what you were dealing with, you would not be so insolent!"

"I understand perfectly!" snapped Starscream. "Soundwave understood too. That is why you had to ensure he met with an unfortunate accident. He would have warned Megatron, and you couldn't allow yourself to be revealed so soon. Am I right, Unicron?"

"You have signed your own death warrant, you presumptuous worm!" laughed Oblivion, leaping down from his throne and towering over Starscream, heavy concussion cannons deploying from panels in his forearms. "You dare attempt to blackmail the Chaos Bringer? I am a child of the Void! I could crush your insignificant body with a thought and devour your spark; its potency could sustain me for kilovorns. And the torments of that fate are worse than any mythological Pit your primitive religious fantasies can conceive!"

Starscream looked into the bottomless emerald optics, for the first time seeing what lay behind them and feeling his spark attempt to retreat from its unleashed presence. Only his desire for power held him still within Oblivion's shadow. "You misunderstand my intent, Great Devourer," he said slyly. "Blackmail may have been Soundwave's forte, but I have far more concrete ambitions to fulfil!" He sagged his wings and bowed his head respectfully. "I realise that you are a power beyond my comprehension: a god among mortals. Beyond the comprehension of any mortal being." He glanced up, his optics burning with desire. "I wish to share in that power! To raise myself to glory and crush all who oppose me. You have the ability to bestow that power on others as you did Galvatron. You will do the same for me!"

"Will I?" chuckled Oblivion. "And how shall you repay this gift, Starscream? What do you offer me?"

"I will destroy all who oppose you," he replied. "My Empire will hunt down every last Autobot and purge them from existence."

"Why should I care when Mega Galvatron will do this without my lifting a hand?" Oblivion grinned broadly. "I do not share my power voluntarily, Decepticon."

"Name your price."

"I must be assured of the destruction of all opposition to my rebirth, Starscream. Destroy the Autobots, and capture the Creation Matrix and Cybertron for me. With the life-force and body of Primus I will rise from the ashes of my enemy and be reborn! That is my price!"

"The Matrix and Cybertron are all you desire?" asked Starscream, smiling. "The resources of both will be a loss to my Empire, but neither is irreplaceable. Megatron could never understand that fact. Cybertron was always at the heart of his Empire."

"And your Empire?" asked Oblivion, his lips curling into a hungry grin.

"One planet is much the same as another," Starscream shrugged. "The Bersalis Cluster is a far more defensible position than Cybertron has ever been. My Empire will pour forth from there. You can take Cybertron!"

"You speak so coldly of the body of your god," Oblivion chuckled darkly.

"A god who had no greater destiny for me than a pawn in his battles with you!" snapped Starscream. "I retain no loyalty to Primus!"

"Excellent," crowed Oblivion. "Very well then, you shall have the power you crave! But know this: you will serve me or you will face the consequences of your disloyalty! Remember that I give only a fraction of my total power to you."

"So be it!" growled Starscream. "I don't care! I want what I have always wanted: power! I want Decepticons to cower at my feet and hail me as their rightful ruler! And I want Mega Galvatron to see it before I wipe him from existence!"

"Such arrogance," Oblivion chuckled. "Such low regard for those around you. So power is your only desire? Then take it!" Oblivion lifted a clawed hand, fist clenched. At the movement, Starscream was lifted from his feet into the air. Oblivion opened his hand, spreading his fingers wide, and Starscream's limbs were forced out from his body in a vicelike invisible grip. For several kliks, he hung immobile in Oblivion's psionic clutches, before the giant's optics glowed brightly and the Decepticon was bathed in a cold green light that seared through to his core. Starscream howled in agony as his exo-plating began to tear itself from his body, his internal structures twisting and reforming as it began to grow in size and power. Subspace tore open around the Decepticon, and the liquefied techno-organic material of his Pretender shell swirled in the psionic storm that reshaped his body with sheered exo-plating and armour. "Behold," laughed Oblivion. "Starscream is no more. Now there is only Starstrike: the instrument of my rebirth!" 


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

New Sun Rising

Cybertron, Polyhex City-state, Sector Omicron-147 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 2460 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 19 October 2070, 18:01 HOURS

Cyclonus sat alone in one of Polyhex's dilapidated and grimy bars nursing a cylinder of the cheapest low-grade energon the place had to offer. The tarnished, rust-spotted surface of the table in front of him was littered with spent cylinders, the oldest neatly stacked and the more recent additions scattered haphazardly across the surface. The bar's civilian clients avoided the dark booth in which he sat, and even the few off-duty Decepticons hogging the bar were avoiding eye-contact with him. Not that Cyclonus minded, really: he wanted to be left alone to stew in his own misery! The only comments his fellow Decepticons made about him just recently were accusations. They blamed him for every lunatic scheme Mega Galvatron sacrificed their comrades to. Blamed him for not just accepting Shockwave as high commander. Shockwave for Primus' sake! They were even willing to follow orders from that walking computer if it meant an end to Mega Galvatron. There were more frequent mutterings every solar period longing for Shockwave, or even Scorponok, to come and free the Decepticons from the Supreme Overlord's madness. They blamed Cyclonus for it all. He and Scourge…

Ah, yes, Scourge. Well, he wouldn't be worrying about the Decepticons blaming him. Not any more! Even after almost two kilobreems - nearly half an orn - Cyclonus still hadn't come to terms with his fellow Unicronian's death. A pointless, worthless death! Never in his worst nightmares had he imagined that Mega Galvatron would kill him or Scourge. They had been loyal lieutenants. They hadn't bowed to the usurper Shockwave like so many others had! They had found the rightful leader of the Decepticons, Galvatron, and his alternate self Megatron. Had done their best to knit the mangled amalgam into a functional mechanoid able to retake the high command. He was supposed to have been the ultimate Decepticon leader: a being forged for the express purpose of leading the Empire to final victory! He laughed bitterly at that thought, drawing nervous glances from his fellow drinkers. He turned to them with bleary energon-dulled optics, raising his half-empty cylinder in salute before tossing its contents into the back of his throat. To Scourge! he thought bitterly. I hope to be close on your heels to the Pit! Has to be better than where I am now! Scourge had got off easy. His death had allowed him to avoid the surreptitious glances and whisperings of the other Decepticons that followed Cyclonus wherever he went. He couldn't even sit in the main recreation bays of Darkmount without sensing at least one pair of optics burning scornfully into his back!

He raised his horned head heavily and glanced over to the bar. "Anuzha drink!" he slurred, struggling to form words with his impaired vocoder. "I wannanuzha drink!" As he slammed the empty cylinder onto the table in front of him, a diminutive bar-femme scurried fitfully over to him with another cylinder. She placed it on the table in front of him, avoiding eye contact, before hurrying back to the relative safety of the bar. Cyclonus watched her go, barely able to hold his head upright, before knocking back the cheap gritty energon in one go. He barely felt the buzz of power as it hit his already over-energised systems, causing a few more to shut down in protest. Oh, Scourge, he thought. Where'd it all go wrong?

With great difficulty, he lifted his protesting body out of the booth and staggered unsteadily across the dirty bar to the makeshift door that had been welded over the rough opening in the foundations of the building above. As he pushed his way out into one of the city-state's junk-littered lower levels, a couple of Empties scattered down a side alley out of sight. The movement barely registered on his energon-impaired sensors - that or the circuits between them and his brain had shorted from the energon overload - and he staggered away from the bar, tripping clumsily over rusted debris and scrap feeders. Finally, he reached the bottom of a surface shaft between two neighbouring buildings of the upper city and jumped into the air. Transformation systems clicked and whined in protest as he attempted to switch modes. After several centikliks, something popped inside him and in a bizarre amalgam of robot and fighter parts he crashed into the nearest debris heap. For several kliks he struggled to complete his transformation, before the energon overload finally tipped him over into emergency shutdown.

Polyhex City-state, Sector Alpha-010 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 2537 (Solar pre-zenith)  
Earth date: 20 October 2070, 04:42 HOURS

Cyclonus gradually regained consciousness in a small unfamiliar bay. The beep and hum of computer systems sounded in his audio modules, and as he came fully online he realised that he was lying on a repair table connected up to several medical systems. Moments later, he realised how lousy he felt, and his groan filled the room with mechanical feedback. A few kliks later, a neutral silver-blue face appeared above his head within an unadorned utilitarian white cranial helmet that sat atop red shoulders. A Decepticon insignia adorned his red chest, though the rest of his slender body was primarily white apart from his red lower legs. A helicopter tail rotor was mounted on his right wrist, while fins were mounted on his forearms. The main rotor of his vehicle mode rose from his shoulders to flank his head. "Welcome back to the land of the functional, commander," the mech said pleasantly. "You're lucky to be functional at all judging by how much cheap energon I spent the morning purging from your body."

"Lifeline?" Cyclonus asked, his head still feeling slightly off-balance.

"Yes, commander," replied the Decepticon doctor. "You're in Darkmount. A couple of soldiers brought you to me in the early hours. Apparently they found you in a trash heap." Lifeline shook his head and tutted good-naturedly. "How many times is this now?" he continued. "If I thought it wouldn't impact your recovery I would have reported you to my superiors as per medical protocols. But I'd rather keep your head on your shoulders."

"Don't do me any favours, doctor!" Cyclonus spat sombrely, sitting up and pulling umbilical connections from his body.

"Please, I haven't finished your treatment yet!" the doctor protested, trying to restrain the saboteur ineffectually.

Cyclonus cast him an icy glare that made it perfectly clear that Lifeline was to back off. The white medic did so, lifting his hands in supplication for his patient to calm down, the silver helicopter landing skids under his feet clicking on the floor of the bay as he backed away. "Please, commander, you were in quite a state when you got here," he pleaded. "You were trapped mid-transform with hardly any of your systems functioning efficiently. I had to replace your main transformation cog by retro-engineering the cog from one of your drones! I'm surprised you recovered so fast."

"We Unicronians are particularly resilient, doctor," replied Cyclonus, regaining his composure. "Will the drone recover from the procedure?"

"I'm having a new cog constructed and programmed for him," Lifeline replied. "It may take a while, however. Your Unicronian biomechanics are slightly different to what I'm used to."

"If the resources can't be found," Cyclonus told him, "have the drone scrapped. He might as well serve to create a new life if he is incapable of serving the Decepticons in this one."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Lifeline responded hastily, disgusted at the thought of giving up on a patient. "He will be fully recovered in a solar period or two."

"Very well, doctor," spat the purple fighter. "If you must." He climbed off the repair table, feeling his joints grind in protest until fresh lubricant had reached them. His whole body seemed to protest at the movement. How weak I've become! he thought angrily. Perhaps Mega Galvatron is right! We Unicronians are no longer top of the line. We're getting old and obsolete. Maybe it's time for a refit… Considering upgrading to a more worthy form, Cyclonus bade Lifeline goodbye and left the repair bay.

Cybertronian orbit, Polyhex Airspace Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 2585 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 20 October 2070, 11:22 HOURS

Decepticon security monitors hung cloaked and inert in cyberstationary orbit over the continent-sized city-state of Polyhex kilometres below. Sensory systems clustered on the extremities of the monitors kept a watchful gaze over the surface below while also monitoring the vacuum beyond the planet's atmosphere for approaching ships and space debris. As well as keeping an alert watch on the Autobot defence network that orbited the planet slightly farther from the surface for activity. An uneasy truce had been maintained by both forces in order to keep Cybertron safe from hostile alien incursion, but both satellite nets were programmed to respond to any attempted attack on the surface by the other. Terminally. For almost four centivorns this fragile equilibrium had been maintained by both sides of the war, and neither satellite net had been put to the test.

The presence of an approaching hyperspace wake alerted both defence nets to an unscheduled warp-capable visitor. Automated systems prepared the satellites for a potential attack and alerted their respective security forces on the surface. Chatter filled the airwaves as data and orders were exchanged and, as on many previous occasions, the two networks switched to standby. On other occasions this was as far as the process had gone, the defensive truce between the Autobots and Decepticons when it came to Cybertron's safety resolving the arrival of forces of one or other of the factions without an exchange of fire. The nets simply maintained their scans of the approach and allowed passage to the surface in the regions controlled by the army in question.

For several kliks, the hyperspace wake cut across the kilocubits into Cybertronian orbit. Hyperspace erupted momentarily across the warp barrier as the new arrivals entered normal space in a burst of photons. The security nets reacted in a flurry of scans, detecting three almost identical aerospace gun-ships in a military arrowhead formation.

The lead craft was mainly dark-grey, with a bulky dark-blue nose module flanked by blue air vents and dark-grey forward-sweeping stabilisers. Heavy black gravitic engine nacelles hung beneath the ship's gull-wings with gold intakes and crested dark-blue exhaust cowlings. Dark-grey tail fins were arranged in a Y around the black tail. Black spikes erupted from the sides of the fuselage under the wings and on the outsides of the engines. A mirrored gold canopy covered a two-man cockpit in the nose. Black cannon ports emerged below the forward vents on either side of the nose, backed up by double-barrelled cannons under each wing and four missile launchers in the belly.

The right-hand gun-ship was dark-green with a black nose module and flanking vents, and a mirrored gold two-man cockpit canopy. The forward-sweeping dark-green bow stabilisers barbed forward at the tips. The black engine nacelles under the gull-wings had silver intakes and exhaust cowlings. The silver tail ended in a dark-green H shaped fin, and the forward cannon ports were silver.

The left-hand craft was a darkened-silver - almost black - with a black nose, forward vents and tail. The forward stabilisers were scythe-like ahead of the spiked intakes of the indigo under-wing gravitic engines, which ended in black exhaust nozzles. Dark-silver tail fins swept up on either side of the tail in a V. The forward cannon ports were indigo and the two-man cockpit canopy was mirrored and gold.

The defence nets detected techno-organic systems beneath their heavily-armoured predatory hulls, moments before the unmarked vessels opened fire and accelerated towards the planet…

The closer Autobot defence net was the first to react, deploying previously concealed heavy lasers and opening fire on the invaders. The gun-ships broke formation and returned fire. Zero-gee explosions blossomed as energy beams, armour-piercing shells and missiles tore through the Autobot defences. Moments later the Decepticon satellites opened fire on the impossibly manoeuvrable gun-ships, which avoided their attacks with as much ease as they had overcome the Autobot defences. More explosions bloomed as the craft cut through the Decepticon line towards the surface. Behind them, the Autobot defences turned to engage them a second time, and kliks later all the Pit broke loose as the primitive target processors of the Decepticon satellites registered the Autobot action as a threat to Polyhex. The sky turned to fire as the two defence nets tore one another apart, leaving the now 'lesser' threat of the gun-ships to penetrate Polyhex's inner defence perimeter.

Surface gun towers and rocket batteries within Polyhex's defences sprung into action, sending a hail of energy blasts and projectiles into the Cybertronian sky to fend off the attackers. The gun-ships banked out of range before resuming their descent, opening fire on the surface with everything in their armaments. Defence positions were reduced to rubble as the three vessels burst through into central Polyhex at impossible speeds and turned onto an attack run on Darkmount itself, avoiding the fire of more defensive weapons as they dropped in among the city's dense buildings. Explosions tore the air around them, ripping into the city's architecture remorselessly in the defenders' attempts to stop the unidentified intruders. Statues of great Decepticon warriors were toppled from the Xystum Legionum Audacium by weapons fire as the gun-ships tore up the broad avenue and into the Grand Forum. Climbing the walls of the Hall of Warriors at the head of the Forum, they passed over the military support centres behind and out over the empty plain that surrounded Darkmount and hid its many ground defences. The fortress's gun towers and missile silos were already active and scanning for targets as they approached, opening fire one after another as the attackers entered firing range. Yet again the immense speed, agility and resilience of the intruders rendered them virtually defunct.

As threat indexes in Darkmount reached their highest level, the automated defences fell silent and, kliks later, swarms of Sweeps lifted from the complex and moved to intercept. The gun-ships slowed as though this was the response they had awaited. As the Sweeps soared into weapons range, squadrons of blue hover-ships and purple fighters bearing down on the now motionless gun-ships, the lead invader activated a long-range communications signal through hyperspace. Kliks later, immense peals of thunder and electronic discharges tore through the Cybertronian sky as warp gates opened all around the Sweeps, sheering the very molecules of the atmosphere with their energies and rocking the sector with gravitational stresses. The hyperspace bridges crackled and writhed like two-dimensional miniature suns for several kliks, before they disgorged a fleet of obviously deadly aircraft into the midst of the Sweeps.

The new arrivals were sleek and deadly hover-ships, their contoured hulls primarily inky black streaked with vicious red markings. On either side of the main hull a silver engine cowling extended forward into curved bow mandibles. A heavy laser cannon emerged above and below each cowling, with twin launchers emerging from the sides of the mandibles. Behind the cowlings, the black tail extended forward-sweeping wing units in an X formation, each tipped by a double-barrelled cannon. Unlike the unidentified gun-ships, the new craft were marked by purple Decepticon insignia on the sides of each engine and between the bow mandibles ahead of a gold cockpit canopy on the upper surface. The Sweeps hesitated as they detected the Decepticon markings of the new hover-ships. As they struggled to make a decision regarding these new ships, they left themselves open to attack. The black hover-ships opened fire, phased missiles, photon beams and X-ray lasers cutting through the Sweeps and sending almost a third plummeting to the ground below before the rest recognised the threat and opened fire.

The dark-grey lead gun-ship took advantage of the distraction afforded by the hover-ship reinforcements to break formation with its comrades, leaving them to direct the slaughter of the Sweeps as it accelerated towards Darkmount. As the fortress's immense walls approached, the craft swooped low to the ground. As the ground came closer, the gun-ship transformed into an armoured techno-organic humanoid, the gold cockpit forming part of his dark-blue chest plate. Cannon ports opened on his black shoulders. His black gauntlets were spiked on the forearms and knuckles. Forward stabilisers rose behind each shoulder, and gull-wings were folded on his back. The tail extended from the back of his black-armoured hips. His black boots were spiked down the outside of the calves, with bladed blue kneecaps and gold armour around his ankles. A black battle helmet covered his black-haired scalp, curved horns on either side and spikes over the ears and running back from the forehead. His eyes were cold and dark in a pale face. For several kliks he continued to fall towards the ground, before his features turned neutral and his entire body split down the middle.

The Pretender shell fell away to reveal the inner Cybertronian. His chest was red with air intakes in the lower edge, an angular red fighter nose module running down to the black nose cone at his pelvis, and a gold cockpit canopy flush with the nose at his abdomen. The sides and back of his abdomen were black above a polished silver pelvis. His upper arms and hands were the same polished silver, with black forearms mounting twin launchers and red shoulder pads that protruded out to either side of his body. His legs were silver with silver-grilled red knee modules and black feet. Black jet exhausts formed his heels and black thruster units were mounted on the outside of his calves. A silver tail fin, edged with red, was mounted on the back of each heel. Silver razor-edged barb-tipped wings, edged with red and black, rose from the back of each shoulder flanking silver gravitic engine nacelles with black exhausts and silver fins. A black cannon rose behind each shoulder on either side of his head. His black face was framed in a black cranial helmet with cheek and chin guards. Silver grilles opened at the front of each audio module and temple, with a red crest running back from his forehead. Scythe-like horns erupted from the sides of his helmet above the audio grilles. His wings were adorned with Decepticon insignia, as was the nose module at his chest.

The Pretender shell reformed and reverted to gun-ship mode behind him as he continued his descent. Subspace systems activated and disgorged a long black dragster-like assault racer below him. The silver forward wing was serrated, razor-edged and tipped by missile launchers ahead of the front wheels on the tapering gold-canopied nose. An exposed silver turbo-engine emerged from the black hull between the canopy and the silver dorsal wing. The engine's lateral red ram-scoop air intakes opened behind the cockpit ahead of the bulky rear wheels, flanked by blasters. A triple-barrelled dorsal turret was mounted at the rear behind the dorsal wing, flanked by silver dorsal fins. Decepticon insignia were branded on its nose and flanks, and the wings and fins were flashed with red. The back of the racer split open, allowing the gun-ship to dock inside, before the inner robot landed inside the racer's cockpit. The engine growled, accelerating the racer towards the outer gates of Darkmount, reaching speeds approaching 600 MPH and weathering everything Polyhex's defences threw at it. The fragment missiles on the forward wing fired, and the racer roared through the torn entrance into the complex.

Polyhex City-state, Sector 010 Cybertronian Date: 999867.92 - 8331 - 2587 (Solar post-zenith)  
Earth date: 20 October 2070, 11: 39 HOURS

Decepticons scattered like bowling pins as the black assault racer tore through the trenches that wound maze-like between the towers and silos of Darkmount, weathering the gunfire of the guards and gun towers. The lateral plasma blasters and dorsal null ray turret of the intruder responded to the automated defence systems, while seeming to almost avoid hitting the Decepticons who scrambled out of the vehicle's high-speed path. Even in the tight confines of the trenches it seemed to be able to maintain incredible speed without losing control around the winding twists and turns of the labyrinthine paths. As it skidded, tyres shrieking, around another turn in the trenches, the vast foundations of Darkmount's multi-tower came into view across a vast parade ground at the end of the trench. Across the open hexagonal square the immense main entrance of the central fortress rose high enough to accommodate an Autobot Guardian drone beneath its great gothic arch, the heavily armoured and multiply locked security gates virtually impregnable. A gun tower rose on either side of the gates, and they moved to target the racer as it approached.

As the first tower opened fire, laser beams searing the metal surface of the parade ground, the racer's turret targeted and returned fire. The triple null ray beams surged through the tower, overloading its circuitry and rendering it inert. The turret rotated and fired on the second tower before it had released a shot. The gate defences down, the racer began to accelerate towards the sealed portal, once again reaching top speeds that came near to breaking the sound barrier. As it accelerated, the power of its defensive force-field was hardened and began to cause sparks of friction with the atmosphere enveloping it. Air thundered past the canopy as the pilot braced himself for an impact that would break even Darkmount's gates!

The twin blasts of supercharged particles tore into the surface of the parade ground ahead of the racer, leaving twin overlapping craters smouldering in its path. As the vehicle hit the edge of the crater, the wheels left the ground and it soared over the immense hole where cables, pipelines and subterranean chambers were ripped open. Its speed and streamlining almost allowed it to clear the gap, but the long nose dipped slightly as the far brim approached. Metal shrieked against metal as the nose caught on the crater rim; momentum flipped the racer up and over onto one side, where it skipped over the ground, flipping a few more times before it came to a halt in a shower of sparks and more screeching of metal. Smoke rose out of the smashed engine block and ram-scoop intakes from fires in the damaged internal systems. For several kliks, there was an uneasy silence as the racer lay inverted with its wheels in the air, a trail of sheered fins, wing-tips and parts of other extremities leading back towards the crater edge. Iridescent oils trickled from holes in the hull, sparking with energon released by torn waveguides.

Mega Galvatron landed in robot mode a few decacubits from the shattered assault racer, the particle cannons on his arms still glowing hot and issuing cooling gases from the barrels. Cyclonus landed beside him, his optics centring on the scratched and torn Decepticon insignia on the racer's hull. "A Decepticon," he said evenly, a part of his mind remarking on the lack of emotion he felt at this unknown comrade's treachery when compared to his responses in the past. His mind drifted from the past to Scourge, and he stifled the twinge of grief that threatened to grow there. "Do you think he was the commander of the others?"

"It doesn't matter," the overlord replied coldly. "They will be joining him soon enough, even if I have to wipe them out of the sky personally! And judging by the remarkably useless efforts of your Sweeps…" He trailed off, his optics drifting over the racer's hull. He could sense something so familiar…

"We should attempt to capture them in as close to one piece as possible," said Cyclonus. "Their technology will-"

The movement of the upside-down racer drew both their attentions, silencing Cyclonus mid-sentence. For several kliks, the racer's nose lifted up into the air, revealing the pilot kneeling below the shattered canopy, holding the racer up with one hand. Still holding the racer's nose over his head, he regained his footing with apparently little effort. Dropping his assault vehicle, he looked from Mega Galvatron to Cyclonus with cool yellow optics, a hint of a smile on his lips. His exo-plating gleamed in the sunlight, unblemished despite the damage to his transport, and his wings were flared out proudly from his shoulders. "Good shot," he smiled, his voice silky and smooth as chocolate. "I was beginning to think I'd be in the throne room before someone stopped me."

Mega Galvatron fired one of his cannons directly at the pilot, only for its blast to deflect of an invisible force-field that shimmered momentarily at the impact point. The silver, red and black mech's smile broadened as he shrugged off the impact force. "A blast like that might be enough for your lieutenant there," he chuckled, indicating Cyclonus, "but my defences are somewhat more formidable."

"Who are you?" the overlord snarled.

"Who am I?" replied the mech, his smile broadening into a grin as his optics turned to the smaller Cyclonus, gold with amusement. "Why, I'm the new Decepticon Aerospace Commander."

"We don't need a new one!" Cyclonus warned him, a little of his old self rising up from his melancholy at the challenge.

"And who might you be?" the challenger asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Who might I-" The long-missed feeling of rage that flooded Cyclonus' circuits choked off his words. Its presence was welcome to him, and he allowed it to drown out the misery that had plagued him since Scourge's death. Finally, he felt like his old self again! A smile curled his lips below red optics that glowed with power. "I am Cyclonus!" he told the attempted usurper. "Child of the fires of Unicron. The greatest warrior in the Decepticon armies… And who are you to challenge me?"

"I am Death," the mech goaded, chuckling at Cyclonus. "Your death."

Cyclonus laughed at the arrogance of this foolish being. So he had evaded Darkmount's security systems and almost breached the fortress itself. If he thought that was enough to destroy a Spawn of the Great Devourer, he was a bigger fool than he looked! He turned to Mega Galvatron and spoke. "My lord, may I destroy this fool for you?"

Mega Galvatron looked to his lieutenant with only mild interest. "If you wish, Cyclonus," he said, his dark voice almost a wearied sigh. "You may try."

"Try!" the mech laughed mockingly. "Try is all he'll do! It will take more than a lackey to defeat me!" Cyclonus turned on his challenger angrily, his optics narrowed and bleached almost white. He half expected the stranger to shrink back at the vehemence of his sneer, but the mech merely raised a patronising brow strut and smiled cynically. Cyclonus spoke, unable to keep the righteous indignation from his tone. "Very well! I accept your challenge, stranger! Some may mourn your loss!"

"None will mourn yours, Cyclonus!" said the mech, stepping away from the wreck of his assault racer and into the open parade ground. "But they will remember the name of your destroyer for all eternity. I am Starstrike; take that name with you to the Pit!"

"Only one of us will be facing the Pit today, and it won't be me!" Cyclonus responded, lunging at his challenger with his hands curled into talons.

Starstrike somersaulted back out of the saboteur's reach, landing nimbly in a crouch balanced on his toe-plates and the fingertips of one hand. He looked up at Cyclonus with a patronising grin, before launching himself forward at speed and ploughing into the Unicronian. His fist connected with Cyclonus' head, denting the right side of his cranial helmet under the force. He followed through with his second fist, crushing Cyclonus' nasal strut, before vaulting over his opponent's head and landing behind him. His foot connected with Cyclonus' lower back and sent him sprawling forward to the ground.

Starstrike's laugh roused even more of Cyclonus' Unicronian anger as he regained his footing and turned on the silver mech. Secret beam ports opened in his wrists and fired, only to be deflected by the stranger's force-field. Roaring his rage, he again launched himself at Starstrike, and this time ploughed into the other, his hands closing around the usurper's throat. "You will die!" he growled. "Even if it takes every ounce of my strength!"

"Strength?" replied Starstrike with a smile. "This is strength!" With a single hand he tore Cyclonus' grip from his throat and tossed the saboteur aside. He quickly regained his footing and pinned his opponent's head to the floor underfoot. As he slowly increased the pressure, Cyclonus felt his helmet buckle and crack, his audio modules howling and crackling with feedback.

As the force threatened to crush him, Cyclonus reached up and swiped Starstrike's legs out from under him. He stumbled back and only just managed to roll away from Cyclonus' enraged and bloodthirsty lunge at him. The engines on his back and at his heels fired and his roll turned into a steep climb into the air, followed closely by Cyclonus who had shifted to fighter mode. Starstrike smirked, before engaging his own transformation systems and shifting into a silver aerospace fighter, its angular red nose module curved slightly down towards the black nose cone. His razor-edged wings swept back behind the red intakes flanking his nose to their barbed tips. Four silver engine nacelles were inboard of and slightly behind the wings, two dorsal and two ventral, with silver dorsal and lateral tail fins arranged around their black exhaust nozzles. A black dorsal cannon faced forward over his air intakes, and four black launchers opened side-by-side on his belly. As his engines fired, he rocketed up through the air leaving Cyclonus far behind.

As his altimeters indicated the approach of the one kilometre mark, Starstrike lifted his nose and rolled backwards into a vertical dive. He plummeted at unbelievable speeds back towards the sleek purple form of Cyclonus, passing his top speed of Mach 16 under the added influence of Cybertronian gravity. As he neared Cyclonus, he angled his reinforced wings into the path of the purple saboteur, and moments later sheered Cyclonus' port wing from his fuselage. Cyclonus' audible howl was lost in the air rushing past Starstrike's fuselage as the ground approached. He engaged braking systems, dumping speed at an unbelievable rate as the metal parade ground continue to rush up to meet him. At the last possible moment he came to a complete rest with his nose cone mere millicubits from the ground, his fuselage still angled vertically. He reverted to robot mode, casting an appraising optic over the wing he had cut through Cyclonus with for damage, before turning his attention to locating his opponent.

Cyclonus had managed to resume his robot mode, and was kneeling on the parade ground leaking oil and energon from what remained of the torn wing on his shoulder. His red optics shone with fury, but also betrayed a deeper incomprehension at his current predicament. As Starstrike strode across the parade ground towards him, he struggled to his feet and diverted the warnings flooding in from his pain sensors away from his conscious processors. Autonomic systems closed off the severed lines in his wing as best they could and isolated the torn waveguides from his primary energon distribution net as he readied himself for Starstrike's next attack. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that he was beaten - a voice that seemed at times to be Scourge and at others to be Skywarp - but he ignored it and summoned his corrosion rifles from subspace. Their weight felt reassuring in his grip as he targeted his opponent. The voice in his head shouted at him to retreat or beg for leniency, but he refused to show weakness: if he was to die, he would die as a Decepticon warrior and a Child of Unicron, not a weak-willed coward!

Starstrike was bearing down on him by now, and as he approached his hands reached to the wing units on his shoulders. As he touched them, they detached from his body and reformed into two razor-edged swords, each barbed at the tip of the blade. Holding them at his sides, the blades turned out and trailing sparks as they were purposefully scraped along the ground, Starstrike quickened his pace and eyed Cyclonus with a triumphant smirk. Cyclonus waited for him to get into point-blank range and fired his corrosion rifles. The first beam refracted off the silver mech's invisible force-field; the second deflected off the broad blade of one of his swords. Before Cyclonus could fire again, a blur of silver-bladed swords had reduced both rifles to mangled wreckage on the ground, only the hand grips remaining in their owner's hands. As he realised the loss of his weapons, he dropped what remained of them and sprung to his feet, pouncing at Starstrike unconcerned by the swords.

Starstrike managed to deflect Cyclonus' lunge without making a mark on his opponent's exo-plating, and side-stepped out of the saboteur's path with remarkable ease, flashing his arrogant grin at the Unicronian. He turned his gold optics momentarily to Mega Galvatron, judging the Supreme Overlord too distant to pick up his whispered words to Cyclonus. "Not so easy this time, is it Cyclonus?" he gloated. "I'm just sorry all the Decepticons aren't here to see your defeat as they witnessed mine!"

"What?" asked Cyclonus, turning to Starstrike in shock. "Who are you?"

"I would have thought it would be obvious to someone of your supposed Unicronian superiority, Cyclonus," Starstrike crowed. "Or perhaps you aren't as clever as you think you are."

"Who are you?" Cyclonus demanded, again lunging ineffectually for his tormentor and again being deflected without Starstrike landing a hit.

"Are these weapons more worthy of your time, Cyclonus?" asked Starstrike, avoiding the saboteur's grasp yet again to leave the purple Decepticon sprawling on the ground at his feet. "Now whose weapons are primitive?" He laughed as Cyclonus rose to his knees. "You've outlived your serviceable life, Cyclonus. Like Scourge, you're irrelevant. Last vorn's model!" His smirk twisted into an even more arrogant sneer. "You're a fruitless aside in the greater Decepticon history. And it's time you were put out of your misery!"

Sunlight glinted on the moving blade of one of his swords as it severed Cyclonus' right arm from his body. Before the limb had hit the ground, the second sword had sliced his remaining arm from its shoulder. Cyclonus saw Starstrike's optics narrow with gleeful satisfaction before his swords flashed one last time.

Cyclonus' head dropped to the ground with a satisfying metallic clang.

Moments later, his body toppled from its knees with a crash. Starstrike pierced the tip of one sword through Cyclonus' back plating between the shoulders, and twisted it around inside, sensing via the tactile sensors within the blade when it found its target. As the blade struck home, he smiled and pulled the sword out with a shriek and howl of tearing metal, trailing sparking energon waveguides, severed circuitry and pipes from the small metallic circuitry cluster that was pierced by the sword's barbed tip. Returning his other sword to the wing mount on his shoulder, he pulled the node from the barb and held it up in his hand. Nutrient oil and coolant trickled down his wrist and forearm from the torn pipes emerging from the cluster, and he could feel the weakening electromagnetic source within through his palm sensors. He returned his second sword to his shoulder and held the small mechanism in both hands, unable to keep the look of haughty jubilation from his face. "Goodbye, Cyclonus," he chuckled darkly. "May the Pit claim your worthless spark." Without another word, he tore the cluster open. There was a brief flash of bright white light before the cluster became dead and inert.

Mega Galvatron looked down as the disembodied head of Cyclonus landed with a crash at his feet. "Here's your champion, Mega Galvatron," said Starstrike, his voice practically a purr. "Cyclonus the Unicronian. He was hardly worth my efforts." Mega Galvatron looked up at the stranger and took in his obvious power. A Decepticon truly worthy of the leadership of a god! He looked into the newcomer's gold optics and felt a brief chill in his spark. Why was this being so familiar to him? He could not be trusted. He was a danger. Mortal instincts cried out for him to beware this being who claimed the title of aerospace commander. If only he could remember where he knew this Starstrike from! He again looked at the other Decepticon, taking in his powerful aura and his inbuilt weapons systems. Yes, he was powerful, but, as with all mortals, he was no threat to Mega Galvatron's power. He would be a useful tool - far more useful than the rest of the pathetic mechanisms who claimed themselves to be Decepticons - but he stood no real chance against the Supreme Overlord of the Decepticon Empire. For him to believe otherwise would be foolish in the extreme. Mega Galvatron smiled calmly. "Very well, Starstrike," he chuckled. "You have proven yourself worthy of command. You shall be Decepticon aerospace commander." He stepped forward, a movement almost faster than Starstrike could detect, and closed clawed fingers around the silver mech's throat. "But remember this: I am Mega Galvatron, Supreme Overlord of all true Decepticons. And I demand complete and total loyalty from those who serve me. I could destroy you in an instant, Starstrike! Never forget that fact!"

"Of course, mighty one," Starstrike replied once the overlord had released him, bowing respectfully. He turned to the outer walls of Darkmount and indicated the sky. "And may I introduce the fleet I have brought to join you, great one?" he asked as the horde of black, red and silver hover-ships soared over the battlements behind Starstrike's gun-ship wing-men. "My two lieutenants, Thundershock and Storm-shadow, and the Neo-Sweeps."

"An impressive force," Mega Galvatron replied. "Finally we have Decepticons worthy of my leadership!" He laughed darkly as the Neo-Sweeps soared overhead in nested arrowhead formations. "With these forces, Starstrike, we will finally destroy all opposition and my Empire will be unstoppable!"

"I live to serve, mighty one," replied Starstrike, his lip curling into a sly smile that Mega Galvatron was too involved in his own glorious dreams to notice.

Deep inside Starstrike's mind, a third voice spoke - deep and resonant, and cold as the void: "Remember your vow, Starstrike! You are mine."

Yes, master! Starstrike responded to the telepathic presence. Cybertron will be yours, Great Devourer. A deeper part of Starstrike's psyche chuckled at the ease with which the weakened Unicron/Oblivion could be fooled, especially this close to the energy of Creation Matrix. Oh, it thought, I'll serve you, Unicron. Until I can manufacture another meeting between you and the Creation Matrix that you fear sooo much!

"You seem deep in thought, Starstrike," Mega Galvatron stated darkly, eyeing him suspiciously. "What is it that you find so necessary to hide from me?"

"Yes, Starstrike," agreed the internal voice of Unicron. "What do you hide from us?"

"I imagine only your great victory, master," he replied to both aloud. "May it be soon." His lips curled into a smile as he looked up at the fleet of Neo-Sweeps that soared over Darkmount. It'll be a Scream! the deeper part of Starstrike's psyche chuckled.

And then all will hail the greatness of Starscream of Vos! 


	6. Chapter 6

Mega Galvatron

Decepticon Supreme Overlord

Decepticon Sixchanger

Motto: "Defeat is not an option - the universe will fall before me!"

Profile: As the result of a bizarre accident caused by an attempted take-over by Shockwave, Megatron and his parallel-universe counterpart, Galvatron, were fused together into a single being, connected on the physical, mental and spiritual levels. Recovered by Cyclonus and Scourge, the damaged remains were carefully reconstructed by Hydrus IV nucleon and Bersalis nanotechnology into Mega Galvatron. He embodies everything that made Megatron and Galvatron the beings they were, powered up to an incredible degree. Cruel, ruthless and merciless, he is completely without compassion or pity for those around him. He is now truly the ultimate culmination of Decepticon evolution, and nothing will stand in the way of his conquest of existence! His arrogance and confidence are boundless. A cold and calculating strategic and tactical genius, coupled with sheer bloodthirsty madness and an undying lust for destruction makes him the biggest threat the Autobots have ever faced. Do not cross him and expect mercy, whoever you are. He is virtually unstoppable.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Endurance: 10

Firepower: 10

Rank: 10

Courage: 10

Skill: 10

Teamwork: 2

Loyalty: 3

Abilities: Mega Galvatron's physical shell is far superior to either of his components' forms in every way. In robot mode, his armoured hide is virtually impenetrable. He is nearly ten times stronger than Galvatron, but this strength can increase fivefold as his rage increases, tapping into the same singularity power source Megatron had access to, but with much greater control and precision: to Megatron, the singularity was a constant battle for control, but for Mega Galvatron accessing its power is second nature. Even in robot form, he can achieve flight speeds in excess of Mach 1. His extendable claws can decapitate an opponent, and his twin energon sabres are deadly weapons. The twin high-energy particle-accelerator cannons on his forearms can completely vaporise over 50 of an average Cybertronian opponent's body at full strength from a distance of 100 yards, while the fusion cluster bomb launchers on his wings can fire a self-guided high-yield nuclear projectile to a range of 1000 miles. His most deadly weapon, however, is a devastating emitter assembly in his chest unit which can channel the full strength of his singularity-taps into a devastating gravitomagnetic force pulse which can penetrate the crust of a planet to several dozen miles. In assault cruiser form he is an aerial battle station, floating over the battlefield up to an altitude of 50,000 feet with an arsenal of particle cannons, fusion cluster bomb launchers and energon lances. He possesses over-the-horizon radar systems, lock-target full spectrum scanners and long-range communications systems for remotely directing the battle. He can also use his gravitomagnetic force cannon in this mode, which fires from the belly of the cruiser at the ground directly below and can annihilate entire moons with a single firing. This form is not built for speed, but can reach Mach 2 at a push. In his cannon form, his twin forward-mounted particle cannons can vaporise a 12 foot thick block of solid titanium-steel from a distance of 2 miles and he can travel over any terrain at speeds approaching 80 MPH. As a dragon, his claws and teeth are diamond-coated, serrated and razor-sharp, able to slice through most metals like butter. He can fly at speeds up to Mach 2, and charge at a top speed of 150 MPH. His fusion-powered plasma breath can slag Cybertronian armour in seconds and the energon lances on his tail unit can slice through enemy forces to devastating effect. In laser pistol mode he is at his most vulnerable, shrunken as he is to be carried by a fellow Decepticon, but is the most powerful hand-weapon on Cybertron, able to vaporise 50 of an opponent with a single shot. His final mode is an advanced aerospace fighter, powered by gravitic engines and gravitomagnetic repellers to give excellent speed and agility in atmosphere or vacuum. He can reach Mach 20 in atmosphere and 0.1c in space. He possesses a trans-warp core for faster-than-light interstellar travel with a range of 1000 light years. He can accommodate up to 2 fellow Decepticons in his cockpit thanks to Cybertronian subspace technology. He is armed with twin particle cannons running along his fuselage, twin fusion cluster bomb launchers on his wings and nose-mounted energon lances. Defensive shields in all modes add to his resistance to enemy attack.

Weaknesses: Mega Galvatron has no known weaknesses.

Optimus Prime

Autobot Commander

Autobot ex-Powermaster

Motto: "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

Profile: Sage, scholar, soldier... Optimus Prime is all this and more. Across the civilised galaxy, the revered leader of the Autobots is the living symbol of freedom. To his followers he is the well of inspiration and courage from which they draw their strength, unyielding in his resolve to prevent Decepticon tyranny from spreading across the galaxy and determined to protect all they threaten. Without a doubt, he is the greatest Autobot in living memory - a natural leader, strategist and warrior coupled with the wisdom and compassion of a true visionary. The fourth Autobot to bear the sacred life force of their god Primus, the Creation Matrix, all the wisdom and learning of Autobot culture is available to him, and he wields this responsibility with knowledge and reverence. Above all things, Optimus Prime craves peace - a peace stolen from the Autobots by the Decepticon uprising that occurred during Prime's youth. At that time, he was a naive young dock worker named Orion Pax, and was almost killed by Megatron's treachery. Rebuilt by the ageing Alpha Trion, he vowed to stop Megatron's destructive conquest even if it meant his own life - a life which has been given on several occasions only to be reborn to continue the fight. Having been fused on a molecular level with his old Powermaster partner Hi-Q, Prime is more determined than ever to stop the new Decepticon Empire from plunging the galaxy into chaos.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Endurance: 10

Firepower: 10

Rank: 10

Courage: 10

Skill: 10

Teamwork: 10

Loyalty: 10

Abilities: Optimus Prime's new battle-ready reformat is superior to his earlier body shells in almost every way. In robot mode, Prime is more than a match for any enemy. With virtually impregnable alloy armour, he is impervious to even heavy artillery fire. Armed with shoulder-mounted high-yield concussion missile launchers, forearm-mounted particle cannon doublets, and twin atom-smasher rifles, all of which can be powered directly from his nanite-regulated engines, he can decimate enemy forces. The battle station module formed from his trailer can take the battle to the air thanks to its gravitomagnetic repellers. It can reach speeds approaching Mach 2 and hover stationary over the battlefield. With launch and landing facilities for several Autobot aircraft it can also serve as a mobile staging post. It is armed with four antiaircraft fusion cannon turrets, twin air-to-ground concussive fragment missile launchers, twin ground-assault atom-smasher cannons, twin solar-flare blasters and a giant long-range assault X-ray laser cannon which can decimate a whole enemy fleet. In truck form, he can reach 210 MPH, and boosted by his nanite-regulated engine can reach 300 MPH for several hours. Heavily armoured, and armed with side-mounted atom-smasher cannons on his trailer, he is an unstoppable juggernaut of war. He can fuse with the trailer to form an even stronger super warrior mode. This super warrior form is a behemoth. With superior strength, speed and agility, as well as gravitomagnetic repellers for flight, he is a match for any enemy. He is virtually invulnerable and is armed to the teeth. He can utilise twin concussive fragment missile launchers on his shoulders, twin atom-smasher cannons on his forearms, solar-flare blaster rifles, particle cannon doublets at sides of his chest, and dual fusion cannons on each leg. His intelligence is also without measure. His strategic, logic and programming skills have no equal.

Weaknesses: The only weakness he could be accused of having is compassion and concern for the safety of others. He would be a more effective military commander if he were more ruthless, but then he wouldn't be Optimus Prime.

Oblivion

Techno-mystic

Devourist Triplechanger

Motto: "That which does not support me shall not infest the Great Void!"

Profile: Not even the unleashed energies of the Creation Matrix can halt the timeless force of chaos which is Unicron. As the Autobots rebuilt Cybertron under the command of the rejuvenated Optimus Prime, Unicron built his strength secretly within the Astral Plain, waiting for an opportunity to avenge himself. Working through his Quintesson worshippers, he first resurrected the Decepticon Empire from its ashes to distract the Autobots. Then using a body created by his Quintesson servants, he recorporealised in Cybertronian form, becoming Oblivion. Every bit as cruel, remorseless and unyielding as before, thirst for vengeance against the Matrix and its Autobot creations drives him, though his long-term goals remain the same. And he knows with certainty that one day his power will be restored and Cybertron will be the first planet to feed his hunger.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 9

Endurance: 10

Firepower: 10

Rank: 10

Courage: 10

Skill: 10

Teamwork: 1

Loyalty: 1

Abilities: In the form of Oblivion, Unicron is little different to other Transformers in his physical abilities. He possesses surprising strength, at least comparable to Optimus Prime, as well as incredible speed, agility and endurance. In robot mode, his appearance is unlike his destroyed planet-sized form but can still strike fear into the heart of anyone who sees him. In fact, some might say he appears even more monstrous. The claws on his hands and feet can shred inch thick steel and his punch can penetrate through 2" of solid titanium. The horns on his shoulders and elbows can disembowel an opponent. The wings which emerge from his back emit a dampening field that can absorb any force or weapon directed at them and channel that power into Oblivion's own resources. Twin atom-smasher cannons on his forearms can level a 20 storey building, and cutting lasers in his optics can slice a 6' steel block in two with one pass. He can fly at Mach 1, but the rockets on his back can double this speed for short distances. He carries a combination sonic/laser sword with which he can devastate enemy forces. In demon mode, his strength is 10 times greater than as a robot, and his fusion-powered plasma-breath can slag another Transformer at close range. He can fly at Mach 1 and leap up to 5 miles at a time. His claws and horns are as deadly as they are in robot form, and add razor-sharp fangs and tusks. In fighter form, his gravitic engines and gravitomagnetic repellers give him tremendous speed and manoeuvrability both in atmosphere and in vacuum: he can manoeuvre in atmosphere up to Mach 20, and in space to 0.1c. He is armed with cutting lasers, atom-smasher cannons, fusion cannons, and high-yield plasma-pulse missiles. He possesses functional cloak and defensive shields. In all modes, he possesses internal space-time teleportation systems which allow him to transport both himself and other objects near-instantaneously across distances of up to 1000 light years. Although weakened by the destruction of his planet body, and his imprisonment within the Matrix, he still possesses tremendous psychic and psionic abilities: he can read the thoughts of lesser beings with ease and can reform matter to his will, and as time passes he continues to regain the power he has lost.

Weaknesses: While formidable, the Oblivion shell is nowhere near as powerful as Unicron's previous form, but with Unicron's psionic abilities growing, the form of Oblivion will no doubt continue to be improved.

Rodimus Prime

Protector of Cybertron / Avatar of Primus

Autobot

Motto: "Experience is the benchmark of maturity."

Profile: Rodimus Prime is the mature, Matrix-infused persona of Hot Rod, but the burden of the immensity of his destiny still sits heavily on his young shoulders. For years after the battle against Unicron in which Optimus Prime apparently destroyed the Chaos Bringer by releasing the power of Creation Matrix within him, Hot Rod had felt like something wasn't sitting right inside of him. Like he had missed something important. And he could never tell what it was that troubled him. Only when Optimus Prime took him on his spiritual journey of Cybertron did Hot Rod begin to realise the enormity of his destiny. When Mega Galvatron defeated Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus in combat, Hot Rod summoned the power of Creation Matrix into his spark, and through it became Rodimus Prime, the true Avatar of Primus and protector of Cybertron. Rodimus Prime speaks with the savvy of a seasoned veteran. He can be hot-headed at times - he has a tendency to act first and ask questions later. Rodimus Prime's sole purpose is the protection of all life.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Endurance: 10

Rank: 10

Courage: 10

Skill: 10

Teamwork: 6

Loyalty: 9

Abilities: Rodimus Prime is virtually unstoppable. Fuelled by the immense power of the Creation Matrix and the will of Primus, Rodimus Prime is a warrior unequalled in strength, power and near invulnerability. Through the Matrix, he has access to all the strategic and tactical knowledge of the Primes before him, as well as all the great wisdom and knowledge of the All-spark to which Creation Matrix connects. He is still learning the immense depth of this knowledge, but is coming to realise what being a Matrix Bearer really signifies. In robot mode, he is armed with six forearm-mounted fusion cannons, twin atom-smasher rifles, and twin shoulder-mounted plasma cannons. In his heavy assault wagon form, he can reach speeds in excess of 600 MPH over any terrain and is heavily armoured. He utilises hood-mounted plasma cannons and side-mounted atom-smasher cannons. The rear cargo modules of his wagon mode opens up into an assault platform when he assumes robot mode, equipped with a double-barrelled hyper-matter blaster cannon that can vaporise the wall of a Decepticon fortress with a single shot, as well as a defensive force-field and search and rescue equipment in the side modules.

Weaknesses: Rodimus Prime is invulnerable to any attack so long as he possesses the Matrix, though his compassion for other living creatures can be turned against him by a ruthless opponent, especially his soft-spot for Arcee.

Starstrike

Decepticon Aerospace Commander

Decepticon 2nd Generation Seeker / Ultra Pretender

Motto: "Conquest is made in the ashes of ones enemies."

Profile: Ruthless, cold-blooded, calculating and arrogant were all traits the Decepticon Starscream had in droves. A desire for power had driven him for many years, and it was this desire for power that brought him to Oblivion. Starscream had plotted with Soundwave to discover exactly who/what the mysterious non-Cybertronian Transformer known as Oblivion was. Though Soundwave was destroyed by Oblivion, Starscream discovered the truth. Recognising the power that a being such as Unicron could bestow, he approached Oblivion. Swearing that in return for power he would destroy Cybertron itself as well as the Autobots, Oblivion rebuilt the Seeker commander into Starstrike. More powerful, more cunning, more devious and utterly devoid of morals, Starstrike thirsts for power like his fellow Decepticons thirst for energon. He will stop at nothing to attain that power, and despite his outward loyalty to his creator, he one day wishes to destroy even Unicron and take all the Chaos Bringer's power for himself.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Endurance: 10

Firepower: 10

Rank: 9

Courage: 10

Skill: 10

Teamwork: 6

Loyalty: 2

Abilities: In robot mode, Starstrike's strength is even a match for Mega Galvatron, though he hides it well to avert the overlord's watchful eye while he prepares to strike. He can reach air speeds of Mach 2 in robot form, thanks in part to the gravitic jets on his back. As well as incredible physical strength, Starstrike is armed with forearm-mounted high-yield plasma cluster bomb launcher doublets and has plasma exhausts in the palms of his hands which can slag enemy armour at close range. As well as this, the wing modules attached to his shoulders can be detached and transformed into twin sonic swords. He also possesses twin shoulder-mounted high-yield null ray cannons which can overload any electronic system within 1000 yards of the target. He transforms into an advanced aerospace fighter powered by four gravitic thrusters which give him a top speed of Mach 16. Gravitomagnetic repellers provide him with excellent manoeuvrability. He is armed with twin dorsal null ray cannons and four ventral plasma cluster bomb launchers. His wings are razor sharp and diamond-hard and can slice clean through a 12 foot thick block of titanium steel. His inner Pretender shell can switch from a humanoid warrior mode, to an advanced aerial gun-ship. In warrior mode, the shell's armour is impervious to almost all non-nuclear weaponry, and it can boost Starstrike's strength fivefold. It is armed with twin dual-barrelled null ray rifles, a dual bladed energo-sword, and a powerful deflecto-shield. It also possesses shoulder-mounted dual concussion cannon ports. In its gun-ship mode, it is even more deadly. Powered by gravitic engines, it can reach speeds approaching Mach 16 in atmosphere, Mach 30 when Starstrike is inside, and can reach warp speeds in vacuum. As well as being heavily armoured, it is armed with twin dual-barrelled null ray cannons under the wings, four under-slung plasma cluster bomb launchers, twin dual concussion cannon ports flanking the cockpit and dorsal particle cannons. It can hover stationary over a target, and accelerate to tremendous speeds in seconds. Starstrike's outer shell takes the form of a heavily-armoured assault racer. Starstrike can either bond with the racer within his inner shell, or can pilot it directly from the one-man driver's cockpit. Capable of top speeds in excess of 600 MPH and tremendous manoeuvrability, it is also impervious to almost anything an opponent can throw at it. Its reinforced tyres provide traction on any surface. Armed with forward-mounted serrated blades for ploughing through enemy forces, a dorsal triple null ray turret, remote cluster mines, forward-mounted fragment missile launchers, lateral plasma blasters, and a powerful force-field generator, the racer is virtually unstoppable.

Weaknesses: As always, even in his new form, Starstrike's weakness is arrogance. Though his new form is more than a match for all but the most powerful opponents, it has given him an over-inflated sense of his own ability, a sense which leads him to take impossible risks.

Ultra Magnus

Autobot Field Commander

Autobot

Motto: "Consistency is victory!"

Profile: Ultra Magnus is all soldier. Created by Emirate Xaaron as a symbol of all that Autobots stand for, he is virtually unstoppable in battle, and tempered by the strategic and tactical genius of the greatest Autobot generals, and the wisdom and fairness of their greatest scholars. His design is based on the ancient blueprints of Optimus Prime himself, given to Autobot command by the old engineer Alpha Trion during the dark days of the Autobot resistance movement. Though designed for command, he is most comfortable when following orders, giving it his all, and is uncomfortable when the mantle of leadership is placed on his shoulders. He sees himself as a follower, not a leader. When he does lead, however, he is resolute, courageous and fanatically fair. He is quite willing to lay down his life for the good of his companions.

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 9

Agility: 7

Endurance: 8

Firepower: 6

Rank: 10

Courage: 9

Skill: 8

Teamwork: 10

Loyalty: 10

Abilities: Ultra Magnus' strength is a rival to that of Optimus Prime himself. In either mode, his hull is virtually impervious to artillery fire. His logic centres and tactical processors give him split-second strategic reactions, making him a terrible foe on the battlefield. In robot mode, Magnus is virtually immovable by force. Upgraded tactically following the latest outbreak of Decepticon hostility, he possesses a formidable arsenal. He carries two double proton missile launchers on his upper arms with an effective range of 30 miles, twin shoulder-mounted ground-to-air rocket launchers with an explosive force of 10 tons of TNT and able to down a jet at an altitude of 100,000 feet, deployable heat-seeking missile racks in his shoulders, each equipped with 10 warheads, and forearm-embedded concussion missile batteries with 6 warheads per arm. He also carries twin dual-barrelled photon blaster-rifles. He assumes the form of an Earthen articulated car transporter. The vehicle has a top speed of 130 MPH over good terrain, though cannot maintain its full speed on rough terrain. In this mode, he can carry up to 200 tons of cargo (or Autobot troops) on his transporter decks and is armed with his proton missile launchers and ground-to-air rocket launchers.

Weaknesses: Ultra Magnus' only weakness is his own self-doubt. He continually questions his true value to the Autobot cause, and when leadership is placed on his shoulders he can feel swamped with the responsibility.


End file.
